“A long time ago you broke out of the harness.
You shook off all restraints.
You said, ‘I will not serve!’
and off you went,
Visiting every sex-and-religion shrine on the way,
like a common whore.
You were a select vine when I planted you
from completely reliable stock.
And look how you’ve turned out—
a tangle of rancid growth, a poor excuse for a vine.
Scrub, using the strongest soaps.
Scour your skin raw.”
“How dare you tell me, ‘I’m not stained by sin.
I’ve never chased after the Baal sex gods’!
Well, look at the tracks you’ve left behind in the valley.
How do you account for what is written in the desert dust—
Tracks of a camel in heat, running this way and that,
tracks of a wild donkey in rut,
Sniffing the wind for the slightest scent of sex.
Who could possibly corral her!
On the hunt for sex, sex, and more sex—
insatiable, indiscriminate, promiscuous.
“Slow down. Take a deep breath. What’s the hurry?
Why wear yourself out? Just what are you after anyway?
But you say, ‘I can’t help it. I’m addicted to alien gods. I can’t quit.’
“Wisdom’s a gift, but you’d trade it for youth
Age is an honor – it’s still not the truth
We saw the stars when they hid from the world
You cursed the sun when it stepped to your girl
Maybe she’s gone and I can’t resurrect her
The truth is she doesn’t need me to protect her
We know the true death, the true way of all flesh
Everyone’s dying, but girl—you’re not old yet”