In the light of the silvery moon,
By the colors of the rainbow bridge,
Brightening me, enlightening me
To entertain you
By reading a poem about what I would choose:
The toe-picker on the bench,
Over a trip to the airport.
With most planes still grounded,
And the air, hot, around hangers,
And hangers on,
I would be spending the morning with hot Petunia
Than riding to watch a hag’s toe nailed,
But I am saving my energy for hot ‘Lanta
When all I get is Jehovah Witnesses,
Toeing the line of false propheteering.
They’d waste their time on a dubious Jew,
So I told them where to go and what to do,
So I could talk to you, my friends, one or two,
About a pretty lady to spend a few hours with
In a hotel room,
One of these evenings,
Mornings, or afternoons…
Luck be a lady, I say,
Luck be a lady one day.
November 11, 2020
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