(draft!)
I wonder why beginnings seem trouble free
The good old days, the way things used to be
with blinded eyes on a high hindsighted spree
I wonder why
I wonder why
Our first six weeks in the womb, in our mother
All female, all the same, the same cover
till half of us, hormoned, become other
I wonder why
I wonder why
All out of Africa, black. Fated.
Some drifted north, mutated,
followed the ice, turned white, faded
I wonder why
I wonder why
CGD
