A splash of water on my face, and stored
Begats, a thousand generations deep
In primate acid, gasp for air. A bored
Post-pithecine emerges from a heap
Of dirty double-helices; he can't
Remember laundry day to save his life,
And sniffs the shirts too easily. A scant
Percent can keep 'em clean; he'll chip a knife
From plastic, burn the dryer, even build
A wheel from bits of books identified
From memes, but wrinkled clothes'll get him killed,
Or even worse, described. The ape defied
The lifeguards once -- I'll swim to shore, so keep
Your nostrils clear; the context ain't that deep.
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