When I need a word that rhymes with “fizz,”
A term that brings to mind an empty bubble,
I can always call on good old “is,”
And save myself the slightest bit of trouble.
When I want a noise that sounds like “fuzz,’
To symbolize a meaning I’ve forgotten,
I can do with nothing less than “was,”
Which changes “new” to “old” -- from fresh to rotten.
When I need the past for him-and-her
Or the subjunctive mood in doubtful cases,
Postulating that, and if, they “were,”
Joins fact and logic, and them both debases.
When I feel like heading to the bar,
But don’t wish to examine my intention,
I can say my cravings simply “are”:
For lazy drunks, the neatest word-invention.
When I wish to take off on the lam
To dodge the karma earned from lousy choices,
I can vaguely note the way I “am,”
Which tends to silence any nagging voices.
When I want to never look and see,
But jump instead at any mere suggestion,
I can ask: “To ‘be’ or not to ‘be’?”
Avoiding action through this pseudo-question.
When I need to shift from “now” to “then”
Because I’ve screwed the pooch for all to witness,
I can point to how things might have “been,”
And hope this covers up my own unfitness.
When I cannot face the sordid taint
Of life as it confronts the normal peasant,
I — like Tweedledee — say “isn’t” “ain’t.”
Conflating timeless absence with the present.
When I gather these inflections few
Into a “verb” that sums up disagreeing,
I speak bubbles as the others do,
And chalk-up ignorance to magic “being.”
When I swim in school I seldom sink,
But waste my time, like any son or daughter.
I just feed and float and breathe and drink,
While never taking thought about the water.
