Thursday, January 6, 2011

On Turning Seventy

Nick yourself on a falling star
Or fall on fallen starlight.
Steady your feet in a whirling bar
As you quaff the foaming brew of night.

Reel a fish from the twinkling sea,
Harpoon a charging whale,
Belch a laugh of giddy glee
And gulp the galloping ale.

Whiz on a dizzily flying dart,
Quench the dry with the wet,
Ride the cosmic apple cart
Magnificently upset.

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