The Amoeba

An amoeba, grown too portly,
Elongates itself, and shortly
Parts itself into amoebae twain.
Now, this form of reproduction
Has its points, if your construction
Lets you split yourself without a pain.
It avoids the complications
That beset our copulations
Which we try to regulate in vain.

Thus a piece of protoplasm
Undergoes bipartite spasm
As it did in Eozoic clime.
Each amoeba now existing
Is a unit, yet persisting,
Which has flourished since the dawn of time.
In this neat and sober fashion,
Unbetrayed by human passion,
Multiplies this deathless bit of slime.

Still there must be something missing
To a life that knows no kissing
Nor the other games the sexes play.
Surely Solomon and Sheba
Had more fun than that amoeba
E'er will know, forever and a day.
So I'd rather love my lassie
Than to be a little, glassy,
Protoplasmic speck and live for ay.

- L. Sprague de Camp.

Dug this out just now as a result of a search following a conversation in Another Place. Thought I'd air it here; I've loved it for years...

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