#104
Jolly Hotei knows nothing of sumo,
Nor of mice, but of sumo wrestling mice
There is nothing he does not understand.
He blew smoke rings once of Otufuko,
A prostitute whose skin was pale as rice.
Two words he's never said are: "I demand."
He pooh poohs the myth that he's flown, a kite,
When it was his grinning that took that flight.
He likes a game, but doesn't play them well.
Winning seems a tiny corner of hell.
He totes his world about in a bundle --
Gifts for the needy, his bedding and socks;
Or himself, tied in with a knot, trundles,
A circle rolling over pond and rocks.
