20161006 (itch)

It's right about there under the S of Scapula on the drawing that is the unscratchable zone responsible for some of our most agonizing and agonizingly pleasant moments

Do all bugs go to some school

To learn exactly where to bite

To transmit perpetual itch, that

Square inch of the scapula hands

Cannot deftly reach and soothe,

Where even rubbing up against

A coarse grinding wheel will not

Relieve us of their histaminic

Excess? We, alone, can get near

But never spot on to ease a bit

The throbbing sting. I muse God

Foresaw this limitation in his 

Creature and thought to give

Him a help mate with fingernails

And sufficient understanding to

Follow simple directions such

As, “No, over to the right, and 

Up. Yeeeaaah! That’s it.” With 

This simple wisdom of touch 

The Divine allowed they would 

Extend these directions to 

Other forms of touching 

With which to smooth

Their intimate moments into 

The very opposite of sting.

Fully cognizant of who gave 

Them this guidance the pair

Would recognize at the 

Summits of their joy with an

Intense and breathy, “Oh, God!

Oh, God! Oh, God!”  Even if 

Centuries later his children

Came to doubts, they would

Still be genetically predisposed

To that primordial cry.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016