Rehabilitation
I fell out of a first floor window,
the sky neither fell nor cried.
Cushioned by curtains, I wasn’t hurt.
Of course I denied that it happened—
after all, how can one fall out of one’s first floor window?
But it was You Tubed, Facebooked, and Twittered.
So I misspoke, I said, like Gerald Ford
talking about Poland, and George W.
talking about Victory in Iraq.
But then I was CNNed, Fox Newsed, and MSNBCed.
I hadn’t “written” a new book,
so that did me no good.
I hadn’t even had time to read the last one I “wrote.”
So to save time, I just apologized.
Then someone anthologized my apologies.
It was a substantial list,
so I formed a committee
of well-known apologists–
men who had acted stupidly
and later sold more books
appeared in more movies
and got front row seating at concerts.
They suggested that I go into rehab—
a place where you take your sins,
apologize again, and find God
or medication.
The sessions were boring
but the medication was great
until I fell out of a basement window.
