Ideas are not your tour de force, we know.
We think you must abhor this steel-ribbed cage,
Yet you were never bred to the great outdoors,
though certainly have some preference to this.
Even being only half-a-rabbit
You are magnificent...what you might do
Not limited by your absence of good sense.
You have an infinite capacity
For work, only held back by our dull wit.
You used to haunt me with your bloodshot eyes.
Before I understood, I pitied you
And found your cage a grim recrimination.
But long ago we made our bloody pact,
Now haunt each other with unfinished dreams.
Jay Cohen