to be one of the rats
of their pack,
hang out with Sinatra, Dean Martin,
Sammy Davis Jr., Peter Lawford,
be on that stage at the Sands Hotel
& Casino
in the Las Vegas
Strip,
a glass of bourbon in one hand, a
cigarette
burning from my lower lip,
sing some mellow song and tap
dance
and joke around,
wink life
away,
have as pets Marilyn, Angie, Shirley
(Maclaine, not
Temple),
all
that
jazz,
and
yet
who am I
kiddin’,
I’m but a (godless) church
mouse

Cap comentari:
Publica un comentari a l'entrada