Oh, Miss Amazing Masterpiece of mine,
Oh, prized possession of my treasured art,
Who cost ten billion for each color, line—
Your form surpassing hundred billions more,
Quadrillions for your signature—all mine!
And people wonder if I now am poor.
But no! I’m happy rich within my heart!
More wealthy than froze kings of Babylon,
I wear my tattered clothing with high grace;
I walk a god who carries with him dawn,
To bear new sun when I look in your face.
My worn-out shoes bear witness to my gold,
My eyes drink eyes of nuggets—ah, so bold!
And when I kiss those lips of fires rare
I’m over Midas in a higher chair!
Oh, Miss Amazing Masterpiece of mine,
How I do worship at your priceless shrine!