Poor Okada, his cat's run away!
Whate'er shall he do to find it?
Poor Okada, his wife's gone astray!
(And the wind-up bird, someone unwind it!)
Murakami, this book is so long; why?
And the women are so very strange!
Phone sex, facial marks, and wells? Sigh.
I think you have quite gone off range.
Okada, I sympathize, really,
You've lost control of life's reins!
But maybe you'd live more ideally,
If you didn't have tofu for brains!
I couldn't get past the melancholy
of the poor mid-aged fellow,
At every turn, a violent folly,
And then to the well to mellow.