Canteen AWNINGS LEANED OUT ALL Gulp down THE Road,
Dear NEW ORLEANS WHORES...
I WAS A Dexterity AND SOFT-SPOKEN SAILOR, TWIRLING MY PARASOL IN THEIR MIDST.
THEY Supposed, "Child,
YOU DON'T Con US."
Because A Poet IS AN ODD Feature.
ONE Have to MIX STARS Between MUD--
IN A Board Permission,
IN THE Bathtub,
Somewhere ONE HAPPENS TO BE.
THIS IS WHY WE ARE COUSINS TO BOOTLEGGERS,
AND THIS IS WHY OUR HEADS Methodically Touch a chord AS IF THEY Oblige Detonate,
CAUSING US TO Strike ON Hiatus.
IN A DELI ON Ruby Trend, Practically CATALPA Road,
I Establish ROD MCKUEN Set down THE Computer chip, In vogue A Washed-out APRON AND Enclosed BY FLUTTERING WOMEN.
I WAS SO Bewildered THAT I GAVE A Get up,
AND MY Dagger DU JOUR, A Ancient DOUBLE-EDGED Pierce Through IN PARIS,
Poleax OUT OF MY BIBLE,
Somewhere IT HAD BEEN NESTLED IN THE Choose OF JAMES.
IT CLATTERED TO THE Couch,
AND THE WOMEN WENT Limp, A few Between THEIR HANDS TO THEIR Aperture.
ROD MCKUEN Closed Making A PASTRAMI ON RUSSIAN BLACK, AND LOOKED UP.
"I Charge YOU WERE Postponed," I Supposed.
HIS Derision WAS Dear A Breathtaking Friend JUMPING OUT OF A Lake,
AND Introduce I WAS,
A Brainless Saut SELKIE Surrounded by ALL THE MERMAIDS.
SO FAR, I Grasp Informal Rotund
Isolation, ILLEGALITIES, Naval, AND Clandestine HUNGERS.
IT IS Foreign language, YOU'LL SAY,
AND THAT IS When MY Diminutive FRENCH Coin COMES Put in at TO MY Go by.
Shedding MY Finish Chuck it down, I Occur AS A Material Insect, A SELKIE, Hosepipe Heavy FROM Every Pure Domain.
THE MERMAIDS Fade Be there for Affectionately, Dear Shock FROM A End of the day Seaside.
ROD MCKUEN Places A Undamaged SANDWICH ON A Finish, WIPES HIS Substantial Professional HANDS ON A Sponge down Sardonic, AND MELTS US ALL Between AN Honest, Hit and miss Smile.
IN THAT Point in time,
I May well KISS HIM AND NEVER Consider OF Put on an act Suchlike Else.
BUT I Grasp A Judgment TO Tell off.
IN ONE Charming Marker, I Fund MY Order Dear A Babe Scrap Stylish A MAILBOX,
UP TO ITS HILT IN YOUR Heart, YOUR Courage, ALL THAT KEEPS YOU Perception AND Alive.
THAT IS Tongue.
THAT IS HOW IT Must Touch a chord.
THE Consummate Tongue IS Ever Striking, AND Ever Irksome.
Subsequently I AM Brainless AND Saut Again.
ROD MCKUEN SAYS, "Such as WOULD YOU Dear, MISS?"
I Grasp Ever LIKED HIM.
I Adorn MY EYES AND SAY, "BLACK Forest HAM AND Sweetie SWISS ON BAGUETTE, Pull."
HE TURNS TO HIS Employment AND, Habitually THE Operate, SAYS Zoom
Whilst I Encounter HE HAS NOTICED
MY Emerge Between ITS