Robin, a little bird

He was only a man
The oddest to appear on stage
Since Pluto played an orange dog
Chasing a conversant, busy mouse.
In front of an audience of aliens
Visiting from the planet Loneliness,
He often spilled his bottled water
And his random insights
Like small polished pearls taken from a necklace
Once worn by a reclusive lady stylishly living in
her post-modern home in fashionable Marin.
His crowd was mostly vocal
In their laughter and in pain
Wearing their softest bras or wire rimmed glasses
or nothing at all with beards and high foreheads
they would sit or stand and famously cat call
or lion roar and roll on the well-lit studio floor.
He seemed to enjoy talking with his pet
Mister Happy in front of their paying eyes
Often expressing delight and constantly surprised
by an instant erection or a hearty applause.
He was only a man
who found one door which opened when he needed it to.