I think of you, my banged-up ticker smiles.
I hear your voice, my klutzy spirit dances.
I must know what god made you, kind friend,

'cause that's the One I'm gonna hafta worship!

I would be kneeling. On my creaking knees.
I would look up at you for endless ages
and live within the precincts of your smile.
I would sooner spend ten minutes on your steps
than an aeon in the Harvard Book Store basement!

My February thaw, my mischief-maker,
you've knocked me flat, you've walloped me with joy!