Now is the winter of absence management
Made glorious bummer by this son of pork;
The keening wind is Carolina made,
And all this twisted truth must take some torque —
Tall tales, tall tales,
And such travails
As fills the fall
Of one who fails
To word-wind wield
Like parasails.
The sky grows blue for lack of cloud,
I take more license than allowed,
The lights are strung up — so am I —
And right now, even two’s a crowd.
We come, we go
We fall like snow:
A time to stop
Is room to grow —
And petty pining’s
All we know.
Alas, historic, I knew him best in bars:
‘Neath Amstel signs and flashing stars
We both drank and destroyed his health,
A thing he gave away in pints and stealth,
Comme ci comme ça,
And fa la la,
The king collects
At last, his draw,
Our tribal strife’s
Become the law;
Beneath the shine
The flesh is raw —
And we must wander
Where we’d not,
And toast each other’s
Sorry lot,
And fervent pray
We don’t get caught
On lanes of
Unofficial
Thought
