It called on me to write the book
which had the very magic hook
for which authors drool and grovel
known as the great American novel

I went in search of a personal Muse
but not one of them did me choose
So next I looked for the perfect niche
but each one seemed to have a hitch
as they were all so small and filled
and not at all what they’d been billed

A genre then was what I sought
I gave it lots of serious thought
but not a single one did ring my bell
and I also did not have much to tell

But then the answer came to me
It was right there for me to see
The challenge I had shattered
Only the title was what mattered

All I had to do to achieve my dream
was to execute my inspired scheme
I filled a page with random words
knowing full well it was for the birds

I had never felt so slick or sage
I wrote “The Great American Novel”* atop the page
so that when anyone would wonder or ask
if anyone had ever accomplished the task
of writing the novel of such great fame
it would be me that they would name
noting, of course, the asterisk there
which was just to keep it fair and square
to acknowledge that it was not the real thing
but only doggerel by a dreamer on a fling