Here I Sit and Wait a Bit - Morning Irreveries Number Two
Arm & Hammer Clump & Seal
describes exactly how I feel
while upon this throne I sit
and stare at my cats’ gravel pit.
Are bagels, lox, or toxic phlox
intestionally causing blocks?
Perhaps I have some kind of pox
that wandered up from fungal socks—
or is the cause that late-night tox,
a quaff that filled my head with rocks.
This, too, shall pass! My soul, be still—
though if it doesn’t, then I will
and ne’er again write flow’ry verse
(please don’t “Hurrah!”), but I know worse
has happened in my meager life,
such as the time I took a wife
who wasn’t mine, but all seemed fine
until her husband crossed the line
and asked my wife to join the throng.
She said, “What feels right can’t be wrong,”
and chimed in with a joyful song!
[Dear friends, ignore those last retorts—
recurrent fever-dreams of sorts
when spirits plague my aching head
and nightmares thrash me in my bed.]
But soft, methinks I hear a tune!
A symphony of fork and spoon
accompanied by fart’s bassoon
vouchsafe a movement may start soon.