For Jackie, Father Steve and others here,
My ego isn't such a fragile thing:
A robust apostate I am, my dear,
Not failing under every rowdy sling
Or arrow flung by one-track-minded folk
Who, though they have invoked almighty God,
Most surely I suspect intend a joke;
For crossing threads is rife in our AWAD.
And who should claim this method plays us false?
It has stood us in good stead in the past
From Shona with velocipedal waltz
To anarchy in threads that diverge fast.
We come here stout of heart and good of will
Of language, not of rage, to have our fill.