Soon, of course, you have to pee.

In the great mutual embrace that is always happening
Between that which is eternal and that which dies,
Between essence and accident, there are accidents.

On a campus deflowered but risen fresh in summer rapture,
You run, then cramp, and walk, and try to run again,
But cannot. A Catch-22: the faster you move

The greater the likelihood you will prove the warmth
And wetness of your mortality; the slower you walk
The farther in time to a latrine. Past coffee-shop

And art gallery, closed in the late loaming sulphur
Streetlight; cars spaced at silent intervals as if
The world were nothing but an off-season amusement

Park. An old joke: The chicken or the road? That
Which we take into our body can never be absented.
There are indivisible sums in the shrubbery

And Britons picking through bone.

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