Ode to Psyche

The irrepressible Travis makes yet another appearance with this quiz, squirreled away in a folder I had forgotten about until now. Prompted to wax poetic in a manner following John Keats's immortal poem but "in a modern setting with contemporary myth like characters", Travis rhapsodizes on Bill and Monica, the epitome of late twentieth-century eroticism. As in Keats, the narrator stumbles upon paramours (here in the Oval Office, rather than the forest floor), and the sight sends him into delirious paroxysms of disgust, departing here significantly from the original. He received full credit for his efforts - boo yeah, grandma! Transliteration of the poem follows below.

Yesterday, possibly in dreaming
I wandered past the White House lawn
Peering through the dark, wrought iron gates,
I percieved [sic] beneath Washington's portrait,
Two lovers lying, half asleep,
The Oval Office desk being thy bed
Oh Monica! You were his lust's focus.
Vile, beastly, Jezabel [sic], where didst thou recieve [sic] thy frame?
From Weight Watchers, not God.
But thou art immortalized still,
Not in a church, nor praised by musician,
No holy text be thy resting place.
Thy temples are the tabloids,
Ne're [sic] in my mind will you reside
With a torch, I would set fire to thee!