OP

        TIC

         ALDE

              LUSIONS

                         by

           Neil Harding McAlister

 

 

 

When John was just a little guy

He was the apple of her eye --

Or so his Mommy, Iris, said

Before she tucked him into bed.

 

Instead of goofing with his buddies

This lad focused on his studies.

Ever the eccentric pupil,

Classmates’ efforts he’d quadruple.

 

In science class he proved so bright

That he began to study light

With such success that, on reflection,

This became his life’s direction.

 

Making an astute decision

This far-sighted man of vision

Set his sights on a degree

At the university.

 

Students at his college rumored

That he lacked a sense of humor.

He had no propensity

For jokes of high intensity.

 

While horny room-mates teased their dates

He played with diffraction grates.

A lonely spectacle he made,

But cum laude he passed his grades.

 

A graduate with cap and gown,

John hung his shingle in our town:

An earnest, young physician, he,

Who practiced ophthalmology.

 

Our learned friend, perceived to be

A man of high acuity,

Worked hard until he made his name.

A famed eye surgeon he became.

 

Patients from the globe around

Flocked to touch his very gown.

A noble Irish Lord, begorra!

Sought his cure for Gloccamora.

 

You think this tale is corny, huh?

He’s now in California

Removing nasty cataracts

From moguls who drive Cadillacs.

 

All Hollywood knows who to call

When they start bumping into walls,

And pop stars strive with earnest hearts

To reach the bottom of his charts.

 

He’ll fix a starlet’s poor refraction

So she can act when she hears, “Action!”

Celebrities’ myopia

Has financed John’s Utopia.

 

Reflect, then, e’er ye dare deride

A bookish nerd who takes in stride

Short-sighted peers who laugh and scoff

Because the boy will not slack off.

 

Who knows what someday he may do?

He might just operate on you! 

 

 

 

2003 Neil Harding McAlister

contact:   neilmac “at” durham.net