Turns out T.S. was terminally tragic

in an obscure, strangely hopeful,

really difficult way to understand

from reading his pretty precise

poetry, but the proof is rock hard

in quarter notes, so thank heavens

for Cats, the musical, sometimes

in three-quarter time, so we could

whimsically see, hear, appreciate

the playful side of the laureate’s

darkness and, therefore, his

humanity.