An amiable and small and dull-minded
Moonish little deals-maker
Warbles up the darkened block
Dead of night — claims he never wanted it any other way
*
Enphantomed in my glimmer tomb
Rightish little contributor
I shuffle up the soundless stairs
Cornering — every single frame can still fool me
*
I’m the audience you dreamed of
One December, years and years back;
I believe all things, because I was once told that
Tastes are sweet and sure enough it was true
But also, though they didn’t say, enoughnesses are rare
