And so to leave with a noteworthy swagger’s
Not lexically popular but anyhow an improvement over rote
Possibilities, this little cute pet person one is and used to be,
Like lint or steam or a curtsy for the queen
Something commonplace and polite
That ends when the many run amok convinced
The world was made for them that they seize it in their meathooks like a chop
Purring all the while like a cat, cooing crooner lyrics
That saturate the airways and the waves
Till storms’ peaks droop over the whole show
Beginning at the beginning, just between the times of hope
That got cast out toward the edges of the lawn
Like lariats at a bar mitzvah
Or confetti at a masquerade ball —

Still, hope or hoop manages to compute
On the grand mathematical scales
As on the ones that shadow always
The eyes