A dear friend told me just last night
That he felt I would soon be dead.
"Well," I neglected to respond, "Who won't?"

Meanwhile, as Earth and Mars prepare to kiss,
A cleansing spirit of monumental proportions exudes
From the troubled heart of the marvelous Alembic
(The hillbillies call it the Gulf o' Mexico
And mine it ruthlessly day and night for oil).

To purge one cockily besteepled corner of our country,
It writhes 'neath kudzued and honeysuckled hillocks;
It slithers under the julep-sippin' magnolias,
As outraged as a trod-upon copperhead--
And a million times as mean!

Within this nebulous Gaial spleen,
The "little brown church in the vale"
(AKA Walmart's Kentucky Fried