Quinn thinks about destiny

Here they continue to build apartments, these little men
with hammers and steel helmets crawl around
fuck around, talk rugby in the smoky sunlight
and I stare out the window like some demented man,
watching their movements, wondering about them
as some woman downstairs screams and a man
walks by the window, and his face contains the brutality and
sleepiness of a million faces and I want to cry
like a child but all I can think of is the moon
passing by your window, crawling like some beetle
in my brain, rising and setting again and again.
Father, pass the wine, for this is my confessional.
I know that I have never passed a man on the street
that I liked, so I sit and try to have patience,
thinking of continents of men like ants going nowhere,
not wanting too much, not caring,
filling their badly worked bodies
with badly cooked food, until they all go mad,
or we all go simple, and start to believe
that the whole thing makes any sense at all.

By Jacques Rousseau

Jacques Rousseau teaches critical thinking and ethics at the University of Cape Town, South Africa, and is the founder and director of the Free Society Institute, a non-profit organisation promoting secular humanism and scientific reasoning.