OK.
And I got one last poem for you.
And thank you for your sustained attention over the course
of me sweating in front of you.
[LAUGHTER]
So I've been writing this book about pigs.
This is a book, this is a poem dedicated to Miss Piggy.
[LAUGHTER]
Any Miss Piggy fans?
OK, two.
OK, good.
All right.
Sorry.
"Miss Piggy."
Oh great porcine drag queen, you who grew erudite
in the slaughterhouse shadow.
Eyelashes like black swords teased up to challenge heaven.
Eternal in your powdered foundation,
refusing every day the knife's inevitable and unkosher ending,
besnouted fount of youth!
Seminal queer iconoclast!
Pearls to bed, pearls in the junkyard, pearls on television.
Diva of late night, of talk shows and prime time.
Door-kicker for the non-conventional romance.
Shown us how to love across identities arbitrary as phylum
and species.
Bless that impossible coupling!
How you took an entire frog inside you
and remained the same bad pig.
Who'd karate chop anyone dumb enough to disrespect.
On three can we have a hi-ya?
One, two, three.
Hi-ya!
One, two, three.
Hi-ya!
One, two, three.
Hi-ya!
What little faggot wouldn't look upon you
and be seen or saved or salved?
You who never questioned you were destined for stardom.
O miss miss!
O great swine demimonde!
Oh dame pig!
I'm yours till I end.
You, my religion.
How I understand all us now.
We are ourselves and the hand inside that guides us.
We who are given voice by the same spirit that gives voice
to everyone we have ever loved.
Well, thanks, y'all.
[APPLAUSE]