"no butler, no second maid, no blood upon the stair.
no eccentric aunt, no gardener, no family friend
smiling among the bric a brac and murder.
only a suburban house with the front door open
and a dog barking at a squirrel, and the cars
passing. the corpse quite dead. the wife in florida.
consider the clues: the potato masher in a vase,
the torn photograph of a weseyan basketball team,
scattered with checks in the hall;
the unsent fan letter to shirley temple,
the hoover button on the lapel of the deceased,
the note: "to be killed this way is quite all right with me."
small wonder that the case remains unsolved,
or that the sleuth, le roux, is now incurably insane,
and sits alone in a white room in a white gown,
screaming that all the world is mad, that clues
lead nowhere, or to walls so high their tops cannot be seen;
screaming all day of war, screaming that nothing can be solved."
sheet music from here.