Primate (by Ebube Mbulu)
I stubbornly refuse to believe
That at one point within my lineage,
Or if I switched garments with
My ancestor, that the creature
In the skyview may not look
So different after all. The primate,
Solely fixated on me, as if he knew
Of my morbid discriminatory nature,
Stared at me with wonder, too,
A wonder that could've dreamed,
Talked, breathed and lived. No wonder
Curious George was always told
To be a good little monkey.
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