Whatever

Certainly I'm out of line-
have been for centuries.
It's in my DNA so
all you scientists can
understand.  Out of line
does not mean a dog
with a leash nor a
liar with a long, pointed
nose.  Out of line...let's
ask a friend.  One who
has serendipitously been
acquainted with another
strain of disrespect. 
What the fuck is the point
of all this drama?  That
over-beating heart does
not mean excitement of
romanticism, eroticism
or any of the other
pleasures of body/mind.
Indignant is a possibility
warned by my astrologer.
So it ends here, you see.
In a poem, neatly packaged,
to mean this thing or another.