Jealous of the human heart: so ugly yet exalted. Jealous of the blood it keeps. Jealous of fast cars and not-hot colors of monks and their vows of silence, Of leather wrapped around the skin of silly boys. Jealous of sex and all its power, of romance and how it makes you swoon. Of men who can grow beards of/or knots, of women who can play the cello. Jealous of love and how much it's desired. Jealous of hair that comes and goes as it pleases, of weather, which no one can control. Of infants, who can sleep all day, of lacewings, that don't sleep at all. Of houseflies and their zillion eyes, the windows to a zillion souls. I'm jealous of saints and their tickets to heaven. I'm jealous of birds and their simple brains. Jealous of people who are naturally prompt, of those who have too much money. Of those who are younger and more famous than I, I'm jealous of those who are older and wiser. Jealous of good liars and lotto winners, jealous of the vast sky above me, Of the threat of hell below me. I'm jealous of the world and the beauty it holds. Jealous of the color green: so fresh, so moldy. So much the gorgeous god of envy.