Other Couples Are Foreign Countries

You can visit them
like one visits Indonesia
or South Africa

or Brazil,
but you are a tourist
encountering 

the Chamber-of-Commerce
production 

of a relationship,
the Ministry of Propoganda's 

redacted adaptation.

You must venture beyond

the guarded perimeter

to experience

the primal truths

of romantic coupling:

wander stark-naked 

into the wilderness,

go full native 

with the indigenous,

sacrifice 

to their heathen gods,

take up arms 

against their oppressors,

paint your flesh with 

the blood

of their enemies.

All are born savage.
The barbarian lurks beneath

a veneer of civility.

In the bedroom,

in the bathroom,

we cannot escape our carnal nature.

Some conceal it more than others,
many from themselves.

This is especially the custom
of social media mavens

who broadcast a tinsel parade 

through the capital square 

while their union rots 

at its foundation.

Each of us is on all fours

with a stranger, 

toiling 

for glimpses of the transcendent,
seizing them, 

at best, enough
to prolong the alliance.

There is nothing to envy
but those magnificent moments
consummated
in your homeland.

**First published in Barbar Literary Magazine