It's called Clam Ode.
"One attempts to be significant on a grand scale
in the knockdown battle of life but settles.
It's clammy today, meaning wet and gray,
not having a hard, calniferous shell.
I love the expression "happy as a clam," how it parts buoyant
emotion to a rather, when you get down to it,
nonexpressive creature.
In piles of ice, it awaits its doom pretty much the same
as on the ocean floor it awaits life's bouquet
and banquet and sexual joys.
Some barnacles we know are eggs dropped from outer space.
But clams, who has a clue how they reproduce?
By trading clouds?
The Chinese thought them capable of prolonging life
while clams doubtlessly considered
the Chinese the opposite.
I remember the jawbreakers as my dad
would buy me on the wharf at Stone Harbor, New Jersey.
Every 30 seconds you'd take out the one in your mouth
to check what color it turned.
What does this have to do with clams?
A feeling.
States of feeling, unlike the states of the upper midwest,
are difficult to name.
That is why music was invented, which
caused a whole new slew of feeling
and is why since, people have had more feelings than they
know what to do with.
So you can see it sort of backfired,
like a fire extinguisher that turned out
to be a flamethrower.
They look alike, don't they?
So if you're buying one to be sure you don't get the other.
The boys in the stockroom are stoners
who wear their pants falling down
and deserve their own Gulliver's Travels island.
The clam however remains calm.
Green is the color of the kelp it rests on,
having a helluva wingding calm.
I'm going to kill you in butter and white wine.
So forgive me, great clam spirit.
Join yourself to me through the emissary of this al dente
fettuccine so I need be qualmless and happy as you."
[CROWD LAUGHING]