Is one more poem OK?
OK.
"Domestique", this is a throwaway
because, after all, it's time for dessert.
But it's an animal love poem, it's the story of my life.
What can I say, I'm Frenchifying it a little, "Domestique",
but you'll see the truth.
And I put on a good jacket tonight, but these--
I spent a long time picking all the dog hair off my clothes,
in order to be presentable, I want you to know.
I'm very disappointed in Barack, Monsieur Barack,
for not getting the three legged dog.
They made a big deal of the three legged dog
from the pound.
I was so proud of him, I went around testifying.
And then he got a perfectly intact dog
from a breeder, a Kennedy breeder, I mean Jesus.
I know that--
I know that Kennedys are dying and stuff,
I don't mean any disrespect.
But anyway, the condition is close to my heart.
"Domestique".
"Surfaces to scrape or wipe, a screwdriver to be applied
to slime-encrusted soles, the spattered hallways,
wadded bedding and, in quantities astounding,
in the corners, under furniture, behind the curtains, fluff
and dander spread by curs, the breeder called non-shedding.
It's a dog's life I myself must lead, day in, day out,
with never a Sunday edition, while they lie around
on their couches like poets, and study the human condition.
[LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE]