A poem for those that think evolution isn’t a thing.

I am man.

I get dirty each day.

I take showers to clean my body.

I grab a fluffy blue towel once I finish.

Often times my wife is standing in our bedroom.

I begin to dry myself, wiping, wriggling, writhing, smiling.

An idea takes hold, I open the towel and wag my genitals at her.

Pointing, pulsing, jiggling, jutting, gyrating, laughing.

I’ve done this a hundred times, maybe more.

Not one time has she responded with glee.

Tomorrow, I’ll doit again.

I am not alone

and also

a

monkey.

I get dirty.