Fig.897.2) et Si The wreck and the doom of a vaudeville bloom Rose as rose can be, limited to fault and grief A blanket, an old mess in the lions tomb and across the room, the funniest joke that's ever been Getting wet to the knees or more Something like fear filling it's core like a rag being stuffed inside something pushed way too full There's a rattle and a rasped gasp lingering past then drowning's served, the gig's observed Law this fragile strake is seen On a frail face there's an old smile suggesting time and place