Unicorns (The Collapse of Western Civilization)

I believe that if you are riding a unicorn
and said unicorn bucks you off, 
you get yourself a plain old horse
and get back up. 

I believe you then ride after that unicorn,
lasso it, hold it still while you ask it
how it became so trendy and why
that whole virgin myth got started. 
I suspect it will shrug, if unicorns 
can indeed shrug. I suspect someone
started that cockamamie story as a way
to get virgins to sit out in the woods
for hours waiting for something to happen.

Meanwhile, perfectly good horses
sit lonely in their stalls back at the stable
and despite all the stories they play a role in
they’re considered too common
for the magical bandwagon these days. 
Everyone loves a unicorn, so much so
they don’t think enough about
the horses and narwhals
who made them happen. 
(Don’t get me started on narwhals.
I’ve roped a few in my time
and with that whole lack of shoulders
they shrug even less obviously
than unicorns do.)

You’re shaking your head
at all of this. After all,
you are currently riding a unicorn
that shits rainbows wherever you pass.
You live as if you’ve haven’t been
repeatedly betrayed 
by the rest of the mythology
which gave us unicorns
as it formed us.

It’s an apocalypse out there.

Soon enough
you’re going to need a horse
to get somewhere
because once the narwhals
go extinct, the slow forgetting
of unicorns shall begin
and the only thing to do then
will be to create
some new chimeras to ride. 

You might as well start now. After all,
none of us are virgins any more.