JOHN MCCRAE (caller): …that mark our place.
NED (counselor): Do you mean like a bookmark? Or our place on earth?
MCCRAE: And in the sky
NED: Glad to know you’re thinking about your place in Heaven, callerino.
MCCRAE: The larks, still bravely singing, fly.
NED: Those are brave birds, if the boy next door is out there with his slingshot.
To everyone who has lost a loved one to war, the Poetry Crisis Line grieves with you this Memorial Day, and wishes you solace.
NED (counselor): Heidily doodely, this is the Poetry Crisis Line. What is your problemirino?
JOHN MCCRAE (caller): In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
NED: Isn’t it dandelions you blow on?
MCCRAE: Between the crosses
NED: Well, I’ll bite. What do you get when you cross a poppy with a dandelion?
MCCRAE: Row on row.
NED: Who, nelly. Roe is from fish. Flowers have seeds. Let’s not go mixing up the natural order of things.