I want to smoke a cigarette,
Transfigure her lost effect -
And pet a sweet Collette,
Watch her smilingly forget.
Ada, make Van shiver,
Cause shame to the live-er,
Cry from a hot onion,
whose texture to the knife,
Is what, but a human life?
Poetry must make sense,
Yet, the barber to his defence,
did jump,
And the policeman, in his defence,
did thump,
the avid critic, with his avowed and protected ward,
or so he said,
of Shakespeare, Larkin, Auden, Elliot,
Wilde and Morris.
Go work in an office.
Naive.
