Twenty years ago
we lived, it had been said,
in the Age of Muldoon.
How was I to know
so many would try to get into bed
with him so soon.
But the height of fashion
can become as quickly jaded
or deflate like a balloon
or come crashing,
some might say unaided,
like an egg from its spoon.
No doubt some would barter
their whole career,
their whole raison d'être,
for an Incantata
or something within ear-
shot of Quoof or Hay, etc.
But a one-trick pony
might find a thousand ways
or more
to sustain his sophisticated, phoney
trick so be preapred to be amazed
at Frolic and Detour.
The maestro hasn't lost it.
It's still all there
on the elliptic.
Once more he's bossed it,
still debonair
not to say cryptic.
