When nothing is left to talk about,
And boredom has us on its tether,
That’s when I’m very apt to spout
Some bright remark about the weather.
When parties grovr a little dull,
Amid the dying conversation,
I give ’em something new to mull:
Our shortage of precipitation.
And when I meet a friend downtown
Whose moniker’s beyond recalling,
I do not hem and haw and frown–
The weather has been too appalling.
Although not what you’d term a sport–
My outlook could be called myopic–
I’m seldom caught entirely short:
I’ll never be without a topic!
by Ray Romine Saturday, September 19, 1953
