I wish to state before this assembled multitude;

This packed house;

This captive audience;

That I have every right

(as much as each of you)

To be here

To represent my interests;

My justifications,

My associations,


I am a member

In every day,



Even on nights which are too cold.

And then the elevators,

(as they so often do)


You look askance.

Indeed, you look at me

In that manner

That indicates the corners of your eyes

Are full of mistakes.

Which proves to me

Beyond and above

– to heaven even –

To the very Golden Gates,

Where various saints

Hang to the golden bars

And swing to and fro

In the Celestial breezes,

Which cause clouds to scud across the sky,

And there is barely time to think of a reply.