Sarcasm bounces off that softness
A man with wit has no business telling the truth
He said he would like to invite the group to walk the hill
But when everyone arrived he sat in the pool
He made fun of the way the walkers dressed
Gulped a caiparinha and told them he would not walk
The enthusiastic group stood and pretended to enjoy his company
Then they made their way up the hill without his wit
Making do with the index of smugness left over in themselves
The summer temps were not quite hot enough
And by the time the group returned Paul had a cold
Cough splutter and wheeze
It's home and a hot water bottle
And other false comforts, illusions of recovery
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