Sometimes I tell you unimportant things
Just to hear the tickle in your voice,
See how amusement in your body sings,
And feel you smile. I despise James Joyce,
And yet I would, if only for your sake,
Listen, if you had reason to desire,
To someone read his whole Finnegan's Wake
Or all Ulysses, though I think it dire.
In short, you may command, always, from me
No matter what the purpose or the reason,
Great heaps of willing, fond absurdity
In every situation, place, and season.
Some I'll invent, and others I'll endure,
But in them all, I am your servant sure.
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