Let's call it a night,
but that doesn't seem right.
After devouring numerous grilled clams,
white shrimps, oysters and ice creams
at a grill house for hours,
I still can't conjure up a ravishing poem or two,
which absolutely makes me blue.
How should I stay in a good mood
after wasting so much seafood?
How should I, sooner or later,
meet my maker
if I'm nothing but a fertilizer maker?
