The graveyard again. Lana is asleep, her head resting on her parents' gravestone. This is a personal low, Lana. She wakes up and checks her watch, with probably the worst neck-crick in history. "What am I doing? This is crazy," she says to herself. I think you moved past crazy after about the 1,500th mention of your dead parents last season. As Lana gets up, we see her poem guy standing behind her. She spots him and calls, but he bolts. She gets him to stop, and says she read the other poem. "It was beautiful," she says. But was it preternaturally beautiful? "You really think so?" Byron (hoo hoo) asks, pathetically. Lana's same blouse is starting to emit fog all over the scene from its funk. She asks his name. He answers and I giggle. "Like the poet?" she asks. He says yes, like his great uncle. The meat packer. Lana asks why he writes poems for her. He says that it's because she inspires him. To be a better lead singer for The White Stripes. Lana rudely turns on a flashlight and shines it in his face. He yells, "No!" and knocks the light out of her hands. Clark is suddenly on the scene and yells, "Get away from her!" He runs at the poet, who slips and falls onto a gravestone, where he's knocked unconscious. Lana's annoyed. The fey poet comes awake and rubs his head in pain. Now all he wants to write is Star Wars fanfic. Byron (chuckle) looks at his fingers. There's blood! He faints. From this dramatic climax, we can finally exhale: There are commercials.