In a dream last night I had gone to the players,
hoping that I might enlist in their ranks.
I told them I could begin by sweeping the stairs.
They said, “Our roster is already full. No thanks!”
“Well then,” I said, “maybe I can provide
something in the line of writing, maybe do some
translation, compose a revue.” “Well,” they replied,
“OK – but nothing obscene or gruesome.
You can start tomorrow. We’ll see what you can do.
Choose a scene from the ancients or some holy writ,
or the history of the first canoe.
Shape your maxims and proverbs according to wit.
With the imagery you can make wanton and free,
but none of that bad homonymerie.
We’ll see if they applaud at the end of the skit.”
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