Bristling at the lectern,
His patterns were
Against the heart of chrome liquor
And the pasted ads from the holiday –
Cunning ever is the selves
We take for helping.
Had you prepared his applause
Instead of passing for it,
Like the island can clamor a call
And give our party relief,
The lures he made would culture
Thousands of pictures
Of wrecks no one expected
To prohibit.