Sleeve

Today everything seems more human--
the sweats sweatier, the hairs hairier,
the fats more lipid and quivering.
The all-seeing sun through the leftover raindrops
steams the oil out of us all,
and it rises, a steady mist of humanity
moving slowly to the sky,
a rich exchange for sunshine.
All is dulled by the tiresome heat,
the tiresome steam, the tiresomeness of humanity--
the sweat, the hair, the fat, the waste,
and age beats down on us like the sun,
But I turn my face against my sleeve
and breathe in the smoke that congregates there,
the smoke that Prometheus gave us
in defiance of the gods.