I'd like to close by reading just one more Zimmer poem.
It's a very short one.
But I think it's a very appropriate way to end.
It's called "Zimmer Warns Himself with Vivid Images
Against Old Age".
"Well, Zimmer, old reeking cricket, there you go,
sliding your galoshes along cement as dismal and hard
as your petrified bowels.
Your hands like frayed moths, raising a yellow snot rag
to your swampy nostrils.
With your eyes unplugged now behind the flyspeck spectacles,
your knees squawking, elbows flaring, joints burning,
penis trickling, feet dead, and teeth long gone,
you pay now with mumbling for all the money you never saved
and all the poems you ever wrote."
Thank you very much.
You've been a very nice audience.
[APPLAUSE]