Everything was lustrous and shimmering; everything gravitated passionately toward a kind of perfection whose definition was absence of friction.
          —Nabokov¹

Nameless, our disgrace is that we capitalize
Universe, not god. Victims without circumstance,
we prioritize pleasure instead of real life.

Problematic in our resolve to avoid by
all means—and at all cost—facing our Selves askance,
nameless, our disgrace is that we capitalize

on seeming blameless in the eyes of others. Lies
deny audiences any chance to advance.
We prioritize pleasure instead of real life

with the ease of trees encircled by walls too high
to climb even if we wanted to reach heaven’s
nameless. Our disgrace is that we capitalize

places and “#hashtag” phrases to distract our minds
from ever realizing the wrong solution’s
we prioritize pleasure instead of real life.

Swans fighting against change’s tide rolling inside,
necks on(-the-)line need tactics other than avoidance.
Nameless, our disgrace is that we capitalize—
we prioritize—pleasure instead of real life.

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¹Vladimir Nabokov, “[Chapter] Four” of Invitation to a Beheading: Translated by Dmitri Nabokov in collaboration with the author, published at New York by Vintage International in 1989; page 50.