Your talk of Asimov and poetry reminded me that I read an Asimov poem when I was in junior high in a book I checked out of the library, and I will never forget one moment. I was powering through some of this book–I have no idea which book–and I came across a poem he had written that was sort of about (this part is hazy) but it was sort of about his creative process and being alone and some sense of longing or something like that.
At any rate, he mentioned drinking tequila and smoking grass, and it was one of those moments where I looked around the room to see if anyone was around because I felt like I was doing something bad by reading this poem. Then I remember looking at the author’s picture again and thinking, “But this guy is a really old nerd with big sideburns. I seriously doubt that someone like him drinks tequila and smokes marijuana.”
It was, I think, my first exposure to someone who admitted doing drugs other than the “burn outs” at my school.
Then again, this was so many years ago, maybe I’m misremembering it. Did anyone else read such a poem by Asimov?
Oh, Dr A.-
Oh, Dr A.-
There is something (don't go 'way)
That I'd like to hear you say.
Though I'd rather die
Than try
To pry,
The fact, you'll find,
Is that my mind
Has evolved the jackpot question for today.
I intend no cheap derision,
So please answer with decision,
And, discarding all your petty cautious fears,
Tell the secret of your vision!
How on earth
Do you give birth
To those crazy and impossible ideas?
It is indigestion
And a question
Of the nightmare that results?
Of your eyeballs whirling,
Twirling,
Fingers curling
And unfurling
While your blood beats maddened chimes
As it keeps impassioned times
With your thick, uneven pulse?
It is _that_, you think, or liquor
That brings on the wildness quicker?
For a teeny
Weeny
Dry martiny
May be just your private genie;
Or perhaps those Tom and Jerries
You will find the very
Berries
For inducing
And unloosing
That weird gimmick or that kicker;
Or an awful
Combination
Of unlawful
Stimulation,
Marijuana plus tequilla,
That will give you just that feel o'
Things a-clicking
And unsticking
As you start for celebration
To the crazy syncopation
Of a brain a-tocking-ticking.
Surely _something_, Dr A.,
Makes you you fey
And quite _outre_.
Since I read you with devotion,
Won't you give me just a notion
Of that shrewdy pepper-up potion
Out of which emerge your plots?
That wild secret bubbly mixture
That has made you such a fixture
In most favoured s.f. spots -
Now, Dr A.,
Don't go away -
Oh, Dr A.-
Oh, Dr A.-
1957
