The Tree of Knowledge of Good in Everything

I never visited the land of Make

Believe with him, that country where the trees

Are arboretum rows without a snake.

That forest would have been a land of ease

Exotic with philosophy’s warm fogs

That settle on a luxury of fruits

That grow forever new with croaking frogs

Of fresh theology dressed up in suits

Re-tailored for our special needs. Cocaine

Would not have been a form of slavery.

Instead it would have been the gentle reign

Of love beyond the need of bravery

Or tourniquets for risks. There flowering limbs

Would gently have caressed our dreaming whims.