You wouldn't believe how bored
Modern souls gets following us around
Wishing that if we can't be heroically good
We'd at least commit graver sins
Or ones requiring some imagination
Or colorful ones, with stripes on them.
It was no surprise to me to find
My soul accepts the occasional odd job
Which doesn't require a college degree
Or corporeality but I'm concerned
With the amount of time it spends
Brooding over The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon.
"Why," it asks me, "have you never watched
The Procession of Blue Horses and why
Have you never joined the ladies of the palace
Hilariously running about during First Month
Trying to poke each other with gruel-sticks?"
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