.
Somewhere in this great country there is a guy
Named Steve. Steve loves this great country
And still believes in everything that made it great
Despite last week's home invasion. "Got it all on videotape."
Steve pays his taxes over and over
In his sleep, averaging out the years.
"Money equals pain divided by forever,"
Steve believes. Also, "lying equals many tears."
Who would suspect backing Steve's Celestial Dog Act
Could have made me rich -- or even believe
A dog could come from heaven? Well, it didn't. The lack
Of credibility hurt us, was all that stood between Steve,
Shaggy, myself and the accumulation of
A fortune. Instead, we dumbly starved, fools for love.
Best in Show Ch. Gillian's Quintessential Quincy, Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show: photo whartonds, 2007
6 comments:
"Money equals pain divided by forever,"
truth does hurt.
Appears Steve (like many of us) is beginning to suss that.
Formally, this is a wonderful pairing with the Denby poem. Its humor (including the title) ups the heartbreak. I do think that “lying equals many tears”. If a person carries around the Inferno daily, rather than the Purgatorio or the Paradiso, what does that say about him?
Thanks for noting that the two pieces do make a brace of sorts. Two sonnets taking place in the Underworld, though as you say the "up" element in this one almost makes its Underworld deeper.
Eliminated from the first quatrain here was a further anecdotal information from the hapless actual Steve (not his name of course), who, gamely enough, related that the home invasion (which sounded bad enough to ruin anybody's century) was only his SECOND darkest news note of the week -- he mumbled wearily some news about heading off to Mexico for necessary dental work.
"Getting this bridge made will cost me three to four thousand dollars if I do it here, six blocks across the border in Mexico the whole deal gets done for seven hundred." This followed by a reiteration of "Still, I love America, it's the greatest country in the world..." & c., trailing off grimly.
A relatively sympathetic bystander, with rolling eyes, cynically or sadly or a bit of each, put in, once Steve had exited: "Denial, that's all it is, pure and simple, everybody's just in denial any more."
wholly to be a fool is okay with me
love
money, not so much
this poem is helping to make my day better already
Well, what I have discovered (not infrequently the hard way) about total folly is: for those of us who dwell in it perpetually, there appears to be little choice.
But money, not so much.
Total day-impact-wise, Otto, your comment probably improved mine at least as much as this poem did yours.
Pops into mind, from the murky bin of collegiate memories, the first line of a Robert Frost sonnet, on the subject of Eve's great singing. "To do that to birds is why she came."
To do that to yours is probably why it came. (Muffled tweet.)
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