GENETIC DETERMINISM

Sitting on the shitter,

Wrestling in my bowels

And in my brain,

With constipation

And existential exasperation:

I seek enlightenment from the pages

Of a scientific publication

And the words inscribed

In this in slim tome

Seek to educate its readers

About the human genome.

Why are we bipedal?

Why aren’t we hirsute?

How can we make tools?

From where did we migrate?

And why do we uniquely,

Unlike our cousin apes,

Make this thing called language,

With which to communicate?

And the scientists say,

As scientists tend to do,

That it’s all down to a gene,

One they call Fox P2.

So I go out into the garden,

To digest this information,

In a suburban situation;

When a urban fox passes by,

It gives me a foxy look,

With its foxy eye

And as if the give the science

A feral peer review

And show that the research was accurate,

This canine decides to micturate

So it was then that I knew,

That the genetics were all true

This confirmed,

When the fox peed too.