I dreamed I was a moron
In camouflague maroon
I dreamed there was a war on
To fight the Great Baboon
We scaled moraines and mountains
Maureen was at my side;
(a Marin County ex-Marine;
She’s skilled in simia-cide)
We traded Myron Cohen jokes
Till both our eyes were red…
Murine, then more ‘n more rapport
We poured ourselves to bed
But Ethics kept us up all night
Discussing Wrong and Right:
To scald the un-schooled thick-skulled Foe
It’s not a pleasant sight
Still, dreams exist to stir the soup
‘Too old!’, ‘Too cold!’, they scold
This-was ‘M-R-N’, ‘S-K-L-D’
And the Gold I’m told they hold
Wu: Whatever could you be talking about?
Me: Oh, the usual… searching for the tie what binds them-there consonants together in English vocab.
Wu: You don’t sleep well at night, do you?
Me: Um.. define ‘well’
Wu: You never just dream about, like, pussy-cats playing in a sun-drenched field?
Me: Kinda. I mean, sure. Kittens in cottons playing in the lab with ketones and cations, cuttin’ up molecules… It’s like a synthesis…
Wu: Yer Momma’s a synthesis.