For my next hobby,
I believe I will take up birdwatching.
Not that I dislike sex, mind you –
the play is fun, the politics engrossing
and the people who seduce me,
downright fascinating. It's just that
I want to see the faces of all my friends
when I inform them of this new pursuit:
"What?" they will ask, stunned.
"It's so noncontroversial, so safe.
Can't you at least take up bungee jumping?"
Ah, me. You see, once you're an established pervert
your pursuits are always suspect.
They'll never take your model airplanes seriously
unless the blueprints can be proved
to have sadomasochistic overtones,
or (at the very least) you've painted
a pink triangle or a riding crop on the left strut.
But birdwatching it will be.
I shall even endeavor not to sermonize
about the strange proclivities
of the yellow-bellied sapsucker,
or to court my would-be lovers
with my latest kinky impersonation
of the Baltimore oriole.