“Nothing Social Distances Like a Jeep!”
(TV Message, 6/6/20)
This baby knows nothing at all of shame.
If he soils himself, his parent, diaper, bib,
Look! New! Excrement added! he proclaims,
Proud of the foul excretions in his crib.
This baby is unfortunately fond of fire.
Cats’ tails, pillows, relatives’ linty cuffs,
Half the neighborhood he once turned pyre,
And sat in the stench of ashes proudly fireproof.
Bright marbles and live grenades are equal in his eye.
He loves bluejays and the air-raid siren’s scream.
Sounds suggesting words punctuate his shrill cries,
Like the solid clots that bubble in spoiled cream.
Grace and I produced him, and where can I
Find grace and heart to let the great lubber die?
