Agèd Relicts

This Poem Is Called Sexual Frustration, or I Fall In Love Too Easily.

Here is a screenplay for a short film:

Untitled (Still Life with Zygote)

INT. – an elementary school classroom, with all the memorable trappings of such.
Medium shot of TEACHER, thirtyish man in rolled-up shirtsleeves, outlining the process of human reproduction on the blackboard.
TEACHER: (as he speaks, the camera pans left past a window and to the front row of children, showing close-ups of their faces) ...So we see the sperm swimming up the birth canal, trying to reach the egg. It’s a furious struggle, and the sperm all acquit themselves well, but in the end only one can reach its goal of fertilizing the egg. (we pan past several bored-looking children, falling asleep, giggling etc. before coming to a close-up of the BOY, twelve years old and dressed as a typical kid, utterly absorbed in the lesson. We cut to a medium shot of the TEACHER, as before) This fertilized egg, the first stage of a new human being, is called a zygote.
(we cut back to the BOY)
BOY: (internal monologue) Zygote. (jump cut to ECU of boy’s eyes, shining with revelation) Zygote.
EXT. – the BOY’s home.
The boy walks up the walk and opens the door.
INT. – the boy comes through the door. His older BROTHER, about sixteen, is waiting inside for him, on the upstairs steps.
BROTHER: So what’d you learn in school today?
BOY: Nuthin’.
BROTHER: Why do we always have to do this? You're such a baby!
BOY: Yeah, well, you’re a zygote!
BROTHER: (shocked and embarrassed, heatedly) I’m a zygote? You’re a zygote! You’re a zygote!
BOY: Nuh-uh!
FIN