It was midnight, and the sleeping author woke up with a start,
“Was I dreaming? Or did Dan Lazar just promise me his heart?
Shall I flag a helicopter? Should I board the nearest train?
Must I laminate my manuscript to keep it from the rain?
Oh, he’s such a snazzy agent, and a hottie-pie to boot,
If I must, I’ll mount a griffin in magnificent pursuit.
He’s a reacher, he’s a grabber, he’s a “good deal” kind of guy,
Oh, my spirit, how it’s dancing – like a moonbeam in the sky!”
Then reality encroached upon the writer’s feeble mind –
(I’d write more, but that’s my limit, and Miss Snark is SO not kind!)
I love this!