Heya, Toe! Well whaddya know?
You made it to Two Grand!
So glad you made it... you did anticipate it--
I wonder if it's what you planned?
Well, anyway, I'm here to say
I thought that your poem was 'cute'--
I sure hate that word, but in case you ain't heard,
I am stuck here today in this 'stute!
The words that I say are just part of the play
in this institute deep in my mind --
And so dear Rockwell, I'm here now to tell
ya, I think I like poems of this kind!
So, where is the 'deer, Mr. Balla himself?
Well, that's a good question, my friend!
Perhaps his old Pentium
skipped the Millennium
and we'll never see him again!
Forgosh, forgeez, I understand
you're watching your mouth at this place!
You wouldn't want Nan
to come in with her hand
and then push the 'delete' with no trace!
Oh, drat, where's this going?
My illness is showing...
I just can't remember my mission--
when writing replies
to your poem with the i's all well- dotted...
think I'll go fishin'!
Oh drat and oh darn
Nurse Cratchet did warn
me that my mind was right on the brink...
of disaster Two Thousand
while stuck in this housin'
for lunatics -- I need a drink!
Well, anyway, fella
I just came to tellya
this Nan, she's a friend of yours, right?
Keep all your poems clean
and then she won't be mean
and delete them quite swift, overnight!
-jt, just me