They Call Me Darwinia Poem by Tara Teeling

It came up in conversation one day,
my lineage and the inclusion of Charles.
There was no intent to impress,
just impassive admission,
and we were having coffee in the café,
sitting in the comfy chairs, (the kind
you can never liberate yourself from) ,
and it seemed to present itself:
the topic of evolution.

Her jaw dropped, so I sat, embarrassed,
wondering why I’d shared so much,
but there was no escape and
the chair was swallowing me,
whole.

What are your thoughts on evolution? ,
she asked like I were a sage,
or wiseling reincarnated,
or an offshoot from a long-dead tree,
and I admitted, with pink humility,
that I was far more spiritual,
than your average follower of science.

That can’t be! , she gasped with horror,
or maybe disgust, as she eyed me
with incredulity and possibly pity.
You can’t see spirits! They‘re merely invention!
Evidence of evolvement
haunts every little corner.
Open your eyes and see!

And so, I looked around.

Porcine tartlets seated to our left,
with their low-waisted, hip-snug jeans,
were giggling about this and that,
while gelatinous rolls of well-earned
flesh bubbled up and over their belts.
I smoothed my hands over my own
ivory jelly, and tried to dismiss it.

Outside, the sound
of an intensely loud motor,
not unlike rapid gunfire,
ravaged the ears of the innocent streetwalkers,
for no discernable purpose.
So hot was the day,
and unseasonably so,
that the general mood was already precarious.
The puffing black smoke of the passing chopper
seemed more than unnecessary.
It was a violation.

The broken urchins slumped
in urine-soaked corners,
begging for a dime, or a dollar,
or whatever could fix them, and no one
seemed to notice them at all.
They’d been someone’s baby once,
but that was a long time ago.

The menu before us, with
sticky fingerprint memories
tattooed on its skin, boasted
delectable fare, in something
close to spoken language, while
the man to our right, in his ill-fitting suit,
droned on and on into a miniature phone,
unaware, or uninterested, that we were
assaulted by every one of his
four-letter words.

I could not dispute that
I saw no spirits here.

So I sat back in solemn resignation,
sipped my coffee and
heaved a heavy sigh onto her lap.

You’re right, I said,
just as Charles thought,
we are completely evolved.