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There’s an industry for every need,
An efficiency for every type of greed.
I always thought the businessman was full of vice.
But he’s just like me. He’s smart. He’s nice.
The lonely guy who dreamed on the fjord
Is the novelist who wrote The Thrill Who Roared.
The thrill is a man of appetites like me.
The thrill’s girlfriend dies of an accident on page one hundred and thirty-three.
It could have happened on page three hundred and four.
I really don’t care that much anymore.
I could make a killing on box wine
Or olive oil. Where do I sign?
You’ve got to be presentable. You’ve got to care. And be nice.
No. It’s not me. It’s the poetry that’s the vice.
