He said that that was simply academic,
Contrary-wise to everything he knew,
And left it there a-spinning on the words
And dangerously dangling if not dead ---
The wistful souvenir of sinful living.
A mountain of oblivion was predicted,
An awesome avenue of reticence
Wherein we ceased complaining --fancy that--
And left the ball of wax to someone else
No matter whom. We quit the rodent race.
We quit and left behind the automobile,
Thin license, chunk of oil and all that,
Confused both friend and foe by throwing in the towel
To sit upon the rock, philosophy,
And weep and moan and divvy up our pints
In painful platitudes -- pitiful places.
He pegged it right I said who saw it coming,
And he was also right who knew it not,
For all are soothed, handsomely buttered up
And left to wallow in their own devices.
Jay Cohen