Somewhere over the rainbow
someone cares, I swear it.
Try not to think
about prior matches
hosted atop
your hand-me-down mattress.
So I chase flies
'round the kitchen
with a towel
mostly naked
swinging desperate
like those who put faith
in the Reverend Jim Jones
and his recipe for Kool-Aid.
He did, in that case
what any self-respecting
searcher would do
after such a misfire:
He went where it hurts.
In this tone I've mustered
despite all the fluster
I'll answer the question
that's burning your tongue:
No, I haven't lost weight
or bullets.
(It'll rattle around
a few dozen times
before stopping
and lodging for good
when it comes.)
They say he's been studying racing forms.
He's betting on a losing horse.
But is there such thing as a winning one?
Save time by asking the Trojans.
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