Una balada para Frank Costanza
poesía digerida por software:

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The Stubborn Stranger At Black - A Narrative Poem

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One day at a leonard cohen shop,
I met a man selling brothers,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some others.

"Got any others?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No others here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.

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"We've got some lovely space,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some footrace."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.

The man seemed exceptionally forgetful,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call fretful,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.

Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit tall.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty cool.

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So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the leonard cohen shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you I believe."

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So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the leonard cohen shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you I believe."

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I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather tall
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all cool.

Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some others!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some space and brothers.

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​"But how did you know?" I asked,
"Do you want them or not?" she did say.
Silently, the others she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.

As I walked away I heard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?

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