In a White Room with Brown Monkeys
By Walter Burns
If I sat and typed fore'er Just hoping it was good I'd best the chimpanzees On antique Underwood? If I sucked each molecule And breathed in all the vapors Would I get some good ideas From all the Liquid Paper? It would just be incidental Because I’m banging every key With my head, hand, and toes And whatever’s close to me The ribbon is running out And the ink is lookin’ funky Soon they’ll come replace me With a robotic typin’ monkey Someday they’ll find this poem In a pile of lesser reads They’ll declare I was a genius For its proof, I was indeed fd;jg;fdajhg;lkjhfgTHE ENDodfahg’ladskfhg[ifg Written January 28th, 2002 © on Jan 28 2002 01:26 PM PST 0 • 14
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"If I sat and typed fore'er..."