The contest is over. I lost, you lost.
I had an intensely anatomical body
and gave it to you. Thirty years ago
you dropped the bomb on me. I submitted.

I like the exam, as long as it's tasteful.
You remember personality? How it posed
naked at all our meetings, till the bulb lit up?
What was so wrong with that? What was so wrong?

The stigmata felt weird, especially during the love-in
when we noticed the beautiful pariahs across the yard.