Of your principle headmistress we have nothing to say.
Of your two bright shoes tied hastily and dangling
from the uppermost branch of the privatest public tree,
we have been talking all night,
yet not to you.

One horror kills another,
and that is the way on film.

Yet the way of the office is another matter entirely.
We have formed in triplicate transcriptions of nothing,
and, in having passed on the free coffee and use
of your sopping restrooms, the restless tie-tack
and prodigious mistletoe,
we have at long last sent the memorandum
answering all questions outstanding in the affirmative,
and with more privacy of heart than a circus.
In circulating, we have felt it long since time to retire;
thus, we have retired.