It's Not That

It's not that I'm opposed to poison in my lips or pig in my soap— it's not that I'm opposed. It's not that I'm opposed to plastic bottles that won't decompose to malodorous phosphorus flows— it's not that I'm opposed to what you propose— surgery on your imperfect nose favelas blasted with hoses— it's not that I'm opposed to opposing the opposite of anonymous neighbors, the nosy stargazers who discover new celebrity planets about to crash into your car. It's not that I'm opposed that we drive when it's not very far to walk or bike not opposed you're opposed to the subway the stink of the general— train 4, 5, or 6–not opposed to the sex on Craigslist to your pets' special tricks to the organized slaughter of cows by the tenderest machines— not opposed to your dreams to their screams to our hopes not opposed to the hordes with their ropes knives and bombs set in desolate streets slums and thrumming towns not opposed to your proms and baptisms to ongoing Christian schisms most unopposed to fierce Muslims Jews Baha'is and Hindus posed in poses temples now oppose the Kama Sutra too ooh-la-la for the petit-bourgeois members of the BJP —not opposed to a big GDP to a loud ATV not opposed to anything I can see hear or touch to "enough or too much"— It's not that I'm opposed to whatever I should propose opposing, knowing knowing is thinning in the species' extra inning on a world slow spinning on an axis slightly tilting into folly so is it folly to suppose you could oppose proposing something to oppose