" Finding a lover is a false start.
Fibrillations of the pitipat heart.
The search for truth is a bum steer.
It's much more likely we're looking for beer.
What can I possibly rhyme with mud?
Is "pod" close enough? Or "good"?
It is the sentence that (sometimes) thinks.
All the rest is twats and dinks. "

― Robert Kroetsch , Hornbooks of Rita K.