That space between your ears remains Shockingly grotesque, revealing A gross lack of fantasy in shucking it— Do not wonder then how it was all Those sheaves of corny poems you wrote And kept turning over in your mind That turned your hair white overnight.
Guffaw before the curtain goes up And the audience throws you An askance glance like you were A tragic actor in a comedy Of errors; keep it up after The curtain comes down And they all laugh along With you to the bitter end.