The same group more or less was sitting eating:
the quartet, Play It Again! and some Cornwall guys;
goulash and potato salad were worth repeating,
and so were the pizza and lamb we tried on for size.
And after the dinner, the quartet again sang sweetly,
and our waitress and several customers came around;
and Jim’s perfect voice changed the meaning of our meeting
to something more complex than a perfect sound.
For I was sitting listening to my pulse
and thinking of the CAT scan coming up;
the guy with the light has told me they found a swelling:
near my liver, a lymph node has given a strange result.
So I’m asking again; any answer will be enough:
except for the song, there’s no answer that anyone’s telling.
