Though we are each our own weapon
we are not so, with any certainty:
voluntarily loosening the bullet-proof vest.
give me a growling Alsation
machine gun,
blank-faced bodyguard;
I might fare better
than against my own worst enemy.

Though I am theoretically self-preserving
Evolution hasn’t kept up.
and now
whatever one’s strength and speed and guts
there is extinction by train-crash,
or just pitiful 21st century luck.

Though I could build a cage,
shut myself in
find temporary haven
from do-gooders, and strangers
I’d not avoid genocide, volcanoes,
lock-pickers, or mayhem;
nor giants’ tempers
after trespass of beanstalks,
nor Nessie and sea monsters
if rolled into wrong waters.