The Pine Trees Pine to Be Heard

Evolutionaries enlightened me this week with their engaging conversations about the energy in partnerships, perfect example: school spirit. One does not have to believe in evolution. Evolution exists. Darwin's wife was a devout Christian. His child died. We humans deceive ourselves, juggle individuality and commonality like golden tons, poorly. Tongues.

Perhaps, however, we believe in transcendence, in the intertwining of everything past and everything present, spiraling like genes. In becoming even more than human. The spirit of evolution is a belief system, dignified--learning to navigate massive groups of humans beautifully. The science of evolution is the summary, the movable middle, the thing that gets some people awfully awry.

There was a movable middle at Saint-Ex last night but it did not move. In the basement on the square corner of one of the city's hipster joints, lame groups of pretty people and purses like shiny tanks talked until their voices drowned. Uptight in various tight circles and one dreadfully patriarchal, trash-magazine seeming threesome/ the one sort of smelly dude who kept touching my hips like he didn't have bones of his own.

Meanwhile, a trail of dancers celebrating St. Valentine did take it to the floor to fancy beats--no doubt, against the walls. I said my prayers to a giant low-hanging, waning moon that I may be an orchid and not a dandelion. That it hurts because I'm evolving.

4 billion years of evolution unable to prevent area man from drooling on self from the Onion