A Treatise on Mankind in the Universe
But first that member
Of the master race must
Tell me where the Camembert
Cheeses have gone.
The second turd was ever
So brown, with only the faintest
Hint of a tint of green, as though
Someone in another stall
Was thinking of a "lonely year
On the storm-tossed sea."
I am not nearly
As bald as I was, dear
Martha, but the weave
Is so much more painful that I
Had imagined than even if my father
Could return from that sojourn
Among the shades to kiss me
Once more in approbation, I should
Have to instruct him, "Only
On these three follicles, sir, the ones
"This world is complete and unabridged in contents
and is manufactured in strict conformity with
wartime regulations for saving paper."
"The Frat Boys' Mixer"
(to the tune of "To Wallace Stevens in Heaven")
Riunite on ice,