Our view of the Alps presented itself
like an orangutan's inflamed pudenda.
Downwind of all that, a sad last gasp
of the galaxy's huge agenda
stood as a monument to our works.
My imaginary wife put it this way:
"Let's ditch this morbid atmosphere
and hitch a ride with Paul Revere."
I could see her point, and many others.
I saw the point of basketball, and of hoop earrings,
and how the two are related—how nice!
Then I surfaced from the jellied sea of time,
only to be reborn as an electron on the lam.
Thanks for that are due on Monday, so come
here and help me get down and debunked
before my faculties expel me.