Oh, the tweed-jacket life of you academic Twainists
When last I saw brother Hal, he was in an airport in New York
Heading home from a semester in Italy
I can remember thinking
What grown man measures life in semesters?
And I'm in court in Peoria on Monday
With a bipolar, suicidal woman trying to get disability
So I'm spending my Saturday afternoon with a Dutch beer
Reading Ogden Nash in between gazing out at the Mississippi
Watching all the drunks on Jackson's Island
Thinking of Hal sitting in Southern Japan
And wishing I could compose a Haiku
Thanks a lot, Hal