I've nothing new to send you,
No levity, not wit.
I've scoured index carefully --
It's unremitting s***.
I'd hoped to find a sonnet of
Surpassing grace and depth.
But all I found was legal writ,
The sort that makes men wepth.
Today I lunched with bankers three,
They spoke of competition--
Investment dollars cheaper than
The dough Greenspan'll give 'em.
They would have cried into their beer
Had they not drank chablis
(Though dearer than an oaten brew
It doesn't make you pee).
I felt so sad for B. of A.,
Comerica I pitied.
They only had six trillion bucks
To order pasta, zitti'd.