Well naturally, it’s on the house!
As you attend to things
And I the mice and the menagerie,
Some someone lesser waters weeds
And feeds the cat while you’re away.
It’s got to be this way, so soon, so little left to say.
Nothing’s well that ends well here. When you return,
In measured measures, tell’em all to hang, let’em burn
What’s left to rearrange exactly what it is you like: those weasels, toads,
And folios and some strained poesy for perpetuity, and as it were
Some few dear items stored until the day you tire of tinsel, earaches,
And all that breaking wind to trump the tempests–
You will, you know you will, and then what?
Where’s the bottom, where the arbour hole,
…and who needs all those nuts?