Don't talk to me of hearts and blood;
Of cardio-vascular metaphors for lust.
The muscle in my chest is not so strong
That I would grant its pumping any trust.
If only I could separate my thoughts
From the buzz of electrical and chemical
Interference at the mind / body interface,
Where the boiling hormones are inimical
To the cooler processes of my intellect.
Undistracted by secreting glands,
I would prefer a calm, objective voice;
Not drowned out by the marching bands -
The din of muzak in each living cell -
Where DNA plays a four note scale:
A pulsing riff in biorhythmic time,
Against which reason, somehow, must prevail.
Because passion is unreasonable in tone,
I won't take part in this emotional debate.
The loudest voice doesn't state the clearest view
And impulsiveness is not a reliable trait.
So, don't talk to me of fevers bright and red;
Of viralogical similes for love.
Fight the contagion in clinical isolation,
With an iron hand inside a latex glove.
