Pioneer Out of Eden

I have to admit it never worked.
Those stero-what's-it posters,
or the trendy moves of the Macarena.

I hunger for something
not found in staring, nor miming
in mass. Mouth deep in a moat
is where I want to be.
In the thick of things
is what I mean to say, swimming
against the dizzy centrifuge
of unsolved mysteries.

I have found myself lately
a classical virtuoso
of the 9 to 5 hit,
instead of prospecting
new frontiers.

When Adam first left the borders of Eden
did he feel the wind on his new born skin,
his first tick bite,
or the heady swelled brain stem
of an illness?

I often wonder about the night
he and Eve first made love
aware of their sound nakedness
and unskilled expressions.
The conquering of uncomfortable distances
and the summed equation of sin.

I'd like to think
the first sounds of their happiness
landed on their feet
and strolled
boldly forth through the world.

Sometimes I listen for it,
wondering if we still have it,
this pioneering spirit.