A couple
years late
But I
crashed the gate
To the Mr.
Robot cult
It’s hit
me like a bolt
For the
next episode I can’t wait
Any
postseason prospects are fake
There
are no moves to make
Injuries
struck them cold
Lots
of vets just got old
This
is the Mets at the All-Star break
Hiefers
in clown pants
Harpies
with inane rants
A
brooch of a pork rind potlatch
A
French fry feed bag to match
Deal
only in won’ts and can’ts
Lost
without or with
Success
was only a myth
Wasted
a year at State
Gott
still stalks him to date
Have
a nice NBA life, Dennis Smith
Season
three ended pretty dire
Everything
going up in fire
“Better
Call Saul” a triumph in force
We’re
sneaking up, of course
To
where “Breaking Bad” touches the wire
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