Everybody in this room's got a Prince poem.
I know.
How many of y'all got a Prince poem?
[LAUGHTER]
This is mine, because Prince came from the Midwest,
and people forget that.
But he didn't because he was a hard working guy.
All right-- and I always thought him
and Garrison Keillor had a thing, but anyway.
[LAUGHTER]
"Prince on Prairie Home Companion: An Invention."
All right.
And this is my way of celebrating the purple one.
"After the song about buttermilk biscuits,
or a horse named Buttermilk, the eye-shadowed one
emerges in a cloud of streamers purple and gold.
He sits before the baby grand.
A wan smile crosses his heart shaped face.
And then he sings an old hymn, I'll Fly Away
or is it the Beautiful River?
Garrison Keillor joins in for some tremulous harmony
and the audience sits, hushed and bothered.
Their faith exalted, an ecstatic chorus ends,
then Keillor tries for some banter.
But once the piano keys are no longer struck,
up stands this tiny regal man.
He gives a slight bow to his host,
to the audience, and then departs.
An odd commercial follows for a faux shampoo, or a power tools.
Who can remember.
The streamers criss-cross the stage
until the janitors broom them away.
And golden glitter streaks the piano keys
while Keillor's tears are not seen.
He knows another man of the plains has left his mark.
Those chords, his voice, mascara in the green room."
I liked Prince.
I really did.