Oh, There Are Hearts

Commentary: Beware the tongue! when Kissin' the King.

The Boy with the Broken Heart and the Boy with the Overflowing Heart sit, tables apart, at the Howard Johnson Breakfast Buffet. You can tell who's who by noting which of the two presides over a plate heaping with home fries and ketchup and which of the two presides over a plate of melon cubes and yoghurt. You can tell who's who by noting which of the two has groomed himself a fancy facial hair display and which of the two has allowed his facial hairs to grow unkempt like a weedy lea. There are girls, oh, there are girls. There are hopes, oh, there are hopes. There is bacon, oh, there is bacon. And there are Hearts, oh, there are Hearts. One of these Hearts is Broken and one of these Hearts is Overflowing. The two Boys write poems. They write sheathes of poems. In one of the sheathes, the Heart Overflows. In the other sheath, the Heart Breaks. Perhaps you can guess which of the two Boys wrote which of the two sheathes. Things tend to correspond -- to correlate -- to arrange themselves for devotion -- in these ways.

The Boy with the Broken Heart wins the Pulitzer Prize. Well, not yet, but many years from now, his Collected Sheathes will triumph. He will be easy to spot in a crowd. He will sit in an armchair surrounded by Boys and Girls who wear goatees on their chins and flowers in their hair, respectively. "Whipped cream," he will say, and "My time in Venice," and "Grotesque dreams." Those sitting about him will say, "Ohhh." The Boy with the Broken Heart will be awarded an Endowed Chair at a Prestigious State University. It will be called the Broken Heart Endowed Chair in the Literary Art of Poetry Sheathing, and all will be well in the House of Babel, as they say, in the song. But what of the Boy with the Overflowing Heart? He grows bitter. In his opinion, those who advance in the world of poetry sheathing say the word "F**k" too often and curse the current president. There are no chairs for him, poor soul, cept the ones at HoJo's. As my friend, F. Nouns, would say: "There is a morale to this story." There is another kind of Heart out there. There are many such alternatives. Cultivate one of them. Then sing yr @&*$ing song.