My fate is cruel? No doubt it makes you think
Of Dante, how I'm in it up to here.
The pool is warm, I tell myself; to drink
It wouldn't cool me anyway, so tears
Are not in order. And to eat the fruit
That hangs above me on that long, lone branch
Would only lead to fouling what I stand
In. No, it's better this way. This way suits
Me fine, thank you. In water free of stench,
I contemplate one perfect apple wind
Would only blow away were I to reach.
Weep not for me, my gentle reader. Each
Man wants some object that will always tease
And taunt. The trick is learning to be pleased.