Half a hundred years ago, I, half-assed,
Raw pedagogue, would sometimes muse on sin,
On moral themes before a drowsy class.
“Adultery, kept underneath the skin,”
I argued, “might not damage innocents.”
(It was a lit class after all.) “How, then,
Absent injury, can there be sin? Whence
The evil, gratifying harmless yens?”
Troubled by a brash TV ad, one day
I raged: America is doomed, consumed
By predatory marketing—folks swayed
To buy electric can-openers—ruined,
Skewered economy, sure to collapse.
Trade built of stupid stuff, frivolity—
Quicksand drowning substance, a baleful lapse
Of sense—diminishes rich industry!
Whereupon, one student, wide-eyed, observed
(With ample reason—though a bit unnerved):
“Professor K., you weave a chilling spell—
“Adultery is charming, even swell,
While powered gadgets hurl us all to Hell?”
(11/23/08)