1922

The essays compare me to a dogcatcher
Invulnerable to science
But I'm really a gascap
A vulture of steam-rows
A cape on the sea of tranquility

The critics all say
I'm born at the right time
But in my heart's back seat
I'm playing kickball with quicklime

The fans in the front row
And the haters in back
All get together
To test for a reason
To think up a new name
For what we call lettuce
And others call cheese
They bite off the heads
Of the flowers that sneeze