What a Clever Bastard

I can travel without leaving.

I can imagine without believing.

I’m only adequately pleasing,

Though I have what is needed to be remembered,

Believe me.

I can dream without sleeping.

I can lie by secret keeping.

I find meter and rhyme pleasing to the ear.

My whole life is poetry, come here, check out

The scenery.

There's an ashtray full of ashes,

And books from all my classes;

The science textbooks and the literary classics

Are there next to my piano and my

Fender Stratocaster.

This room may look disheveled,

But it's where magic takes place.

I'm creating the artwork of puzzles

By using words as my paint: "What a

Clever Bastard."

(Ain’t he just great?)