My poetry went downhill when you left,

but it went downhill like a fun toboggan

full of kids wearing different-colored caps, just

one of them with a bloody nose from the dry,

frozen air--and a few of them Asian.

Please, that is to say, leave me again,

but this time leave me like you mean it

so my poetry will drop like the New Year's

Eve Ball, glittering, amid drunken cheers,

and explode hilariously in Times Square.