I'd
like to stick around, Roger Ebert
I'm
sorry, I can't
It's
too eerie how you've changed
Since
you've beaten your multiple facial bouts
of
cancer –
which
you have just so banally described to me
as
a series of bullets
from
the tip of an Arthur (yawn) Penn prop
–
you just have lost
something
And
in such a sheepish, desperate way you spoke
I
know; I'm terrible
However
I have to give this proposed conversation
on
this wispy cold Chicago street corner thumbs down
Sorry,
Roger, thumbs down
While
I wish you the best of health,
when
you were laying around in your gown
on
your recovery bed,
you
saw nothing, didn't even brush up
on
the resurgent Magnum
P.I.
Man—how
can you not've seen Children
of Men!?
I
love you, you feisty, articulate brain,
but
you're already in the ice at my feet