In deep had gone a member thing,
A pole that’s on a roll.
But from those words his gaze is riven;
To another subject it’s driven.
Mind: Research is the goal.

There had been Nantucketness,
Some ribald script untamed.
Were those anapests he had viewed,
Or a meter unnamed?

The text he reads is very old,
In Latin and Greek ranked.
Rooting out smut: beyond his dreams—
On that he’d not have banked.

The end is nearing of the shift;
Time to go home, almost,
And get a long and restful sleep…
For breakfast, juice and toast.

But there was still some time to sift
Through more that had appeared.
But that which he would next assail
Was not entirely clear.

What he’d just viewed, with porn was rife,
Like none he’d ever seen.
What was this new text all about?
Surely not the old in-and-out.
He will learn what it means.

His probing takes him into the cloud,
Where he hopes to find an edge
On his comrades and make himself proud.
Through net knowledge he’ll dredge.

Boss says, “You’re on a ledge,”an ill-
Wrought metaphor. “Besides,
You need some sleep, not on a jag
Is where you want to be, so bag
It; slumber deep tonight.

“The rest will help you get a grip,
Post-porn that you found spawned.
You can come next day at noon,
Well after day has dawned.”

He cannot argue, so he’ll close
His scope that boosts his eyes…
Go home and close them for the dreams,
Hoping for a reprise.

He steers home, giving a big yawn,
Now glad the day was through.
When first told to leave, he wanted to mope;
He was then feeling blue
But with this approach he is cool;
Tomorrow he’ll feel new.