That new article in The New Yorker claims we are in a new era of lonely isolated a-sexuality, at least according to statistics. Tries to explain it via social media, kids staying at home longer, psychopharmacology, the desire not to reproduce. I don’t know... thoughts? Here’s an Anne Sexton poem from 1968, “The Ballad of the Lonely Masturbator”. Perhaps because of her name she sits at that juncture between sex and love with a kind vicious eye... I opened the book and read this poem and bought it immediately. The boys and girls are one tonight. /They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies./ They take off shoes. They turn off lights./The Glimmering creatures are full of lies./ They are eating each other. They are over fed./ At night, alone, I marry the bed.