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      October 14, 2008Why I Am Not a ScientistRobert Funge

      Now that science has discovered that cod
      get seasick in a storm, and that halibut
      (and probably other fish—they’re waiting
      on a federal grant of five million
      to study the subject) pass gas, perhaps
      it’s time to move on. We don’t really know
      how salmon change sex
      when the going gets tough, how the swan
      finds a mate for life, or the swallow
      Capistrano. And there must be more to learn
      about the hibernation of bears, and why the Cubs
      can’t win a pennant. Let’s find out why
      the whale beaches itself,
      the drinking habits of certain birds,
      and how the monarch takes four generations
      to migrate north, then another four
      back south, and how each generation
      returns on time to a place they’d never been.
      How can they remember what they never knew?
      when in one generation I can’t remember
      where I left my keys. Let’s study that.
      Let’s study why the long forgotten
      flashes into a mind that goes blank
      on what he had for breakfast, and mixes
      the names of his grandchildren. Let’s determine
      why an otherwise serious poet doodles
      gibberish when he could be creating
      esoteric balderdash. Or better yet
      let’s just study that which retards
      the advancement of our civilization,
      like spending five million on seasick cod
      and flatulent halibut, or half a minute
      on a bored poet with equally bad habits.

      Robert Funge

      “I live alone in a library. I’m retired and busier than ever. I write poems to make sense of the past, and because it’s fun. Always both. These poems reflect his life, his imagination and his idiocrasy.”