By 
A few days ago I decided to try one of my famous poetry experiments. At 9:00AM, I wrote a single line of a new poem on a Post-It, and immediately afterward I put it in a folder and didn’t look at it for the rest of the day. At 9:30 I attempted to write the next line of the poem based on my loose memory of the first line, then put that line away too. And I wrote another line at 10:00. And so on every half hour until 5:00. At the end I had written a (great and meaningful) poem, one line at a time without looking at what came before, over the course of eight hours. And here it is.
(9:00) A cloud comes rolling over the city
(9:30) Bringing with it a cloud of gloom.
(10:00) And above, its own miniature cloud.
(10:30) Looking exactly alike, they both call each other “Ron”.
(11:00) In downtown Boston, an auto mechanic sees the coming storm.
(11:30) His nametag says “Ron”.
(12:00) In his embroidered pocket sleeps a mouse.
(12:30) The creature has a name. And it is Ron.
(1:00) Rain falls. Not a rainstorm, but a Ronstorm.
(1:30) And all at once, the Rons are one.
(2:00) Cloud and cloud and man and mouse.
(2:30) What does a man do when he becomes four men?
(3:00) Does he become one Ron conglomerate?
(3:30) Does he merely become a man soaking wet with a pocket mouse?
(4:00) We will not know. Ron won’t tell us.
(4:30) He just keeps performing oil changes
(5:00) For guys named Ron.
