If truth & time be intertwined,
And as we're told by scientists,
It's in our DNA to lie,
Give leeway this forbidden tryst,
Conceived beneath the vernal sky,
In evening glow & morning mist.
Wise men condemn such frolicking,
And yet the fool is April's king.

We've no less right to sacred fruit,
Than Solomon, or Eve, or God.
Lie back, let me take off your boot;
Unzip my jeans, remove the rod.
This greening grass shall be our bed.
We'll move the earth.  We'll wake the dead.