Letter: The Rime of the Ancient Larimer

In a comment on Coastsider’s endorsement of Scott Boyd and Kathryn Slater-Carter for the Montara Water and Sanitary District Board, Carl May referred to "The Ancient Larimer".  That’s from a bit of humor written by Art Zich before he left Half Moon Bay for a foggier place.  Art originally posted his "The Rime of the Ancient Larimer" to the Midcoast-L discussion list on August 17, 2003.  For the amusement of a wider audience, here it is (posted here with Art’s permission):

the rime of the ancient larimer

lank of limb, and ever grim
an icey rage engulf’ed him
as stood he tall upon the bridge
as cold as an amana fridge,
and tried to steer through stormy sea
the good ship c-c, w, d

"i’ll have my way! my time is ripe
for one big sixteen incher pipe,"
he snarled into the teeth of gale.
"it shall be done! i shall not fail!"
this albatross consumed his soul
(a pipe dream, others called his goal)

who knows what drives men off to war?
to suffering, death, and even more—-
if not to spirit’s genuflection
to a shadow’s dim reflection
of the man they wont would be—-
a man of parts!
                just so would he!

for e’en as ahab sought the whale,
obsessed by fate’s own bitter nail,
so some men seek a moby dick,
a giant bird to turn the trick
of living up among the trees
secure from fire, if not disease,
and making others pay for these.

so stood he then in teeth of gale,
and spouting spittle, snarling, "fail?
i’ll not! for i’m a macho male!
they call my pipe my albatross
i’ll show these people who is boss
and make this board my holy grail!"

his crew could not contain his rage!
he roared and ranted center stage!
until it seemed his inner gasses
blew apart his rimless glasses,
then, with final dying breath
he gasped, "my albatross is now my death!"

such tragedies occur at sea,
beyond the ken of thee and me.
alas! his ship sank in the sea
and never more was he to be
the monster of the water board
(his memory has been ignored)

thus, tragically, in bed at night
these men who might have served us right
remember his sad sorry plight,
and sleepless do they turn and toss
—- with visions of the albatross.

"a bird in the hand . . ."—- samuel (az) coleridge