His wispy fingers fiddle with his penis
flicking, scraping, brushing,
bursting into imaginary mates
with a phantom orgasm.
He clambers around his simple platform
and ropes. His enclosure is the kindergarten
of children looking in.
Their breath pearls the glass.
I question the separation between
your silly gait, your lips flipped in clown smile,
and the voluminous crotch you clutch
like a child with his toy.
the ape bends back
his hairy cannon and fires
a primal squirt
the globular stream licks the sky
beyond walls or freedom or millions of years