Something malfunctions in me, said Sendak
To explain why he functioned as he did.
An idea about the end at the back
Of my thoughts insists nothing is ended.
In both senses, it means, knowing I lack
The wherewithal to cogitate splendid
Dances on zero without an attack
Of my Cretan yips that can't be mended.
No souls who've met me, quick taken aback,
Have ever failed to remember they did.
But Life's my nom de guerre, so I have to ask,Will they forget me who meet me once dead?
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