1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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