COUNSELOR: Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
CALLER: There are strange things done in the midnight sun
COUNSELOR: By whom?
CALLER: By the men who moil
COUNSELOR: Yeah, that seems strange to me too. I wonder why someone would take that up as a profession.
CALLER: for gold;
COUNSELOR: You don’t think it’s some sort of sacred calling?
CALLER: The Arctic trails have their secret tales
COUNSELOR: Mohels…gold…secrets. Have you been reading The Protocols of the Elders of Zion?
CALLER: That would make your blood run cold;
COUNSELOR: Well, yeah. But it’s propaganda.
CALLER: The Northern Lights
COUNSELOR: Is that a bar?
CALLER: have seen queer sights,
COUNSELOR: More propaganda. No one’s trying to change your orientation.
CALLER: But the queerest they ever did see
COUNSELOR: It isn’t a competition.
CALLER: Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
COUNSELOR: And I’m not here to judge.
CALLER: I cremated Sam McGee.
COUNSELOR: Huh. I’ve never heard it called that before.