The Barton Fink Feeling – A Lullaby

Sometimes I feel like Barton Fink,
These days and over here,
Romantic fool enough to think
My words could find an ear.

On other days – my gender switched –
I stand in disbelief
Twixt goofs and lunatics, sandwiched
And feeling Enid’s grief.

And then again my name is Randle,
I make a difference,
Until my mind shrinks like a candle
And there’s no Indians …

Yet finally I see it clearly:
Not Jim nor Abigail
But Nobody I am, sincerely,
And Nobody’ll prevail.