Bring me shoes, a Benz,
a boob job. Dial me
a mogul, a bastard,
a stud. I'll write you
a bitch, shallow/deep as
a Bel Air swimming pool.
Death, unutterably...vulgar,
was just the prolegomenon
to an ethereal afterlife,
exquisite,
ineffably...recherché.
Read about Brian Sewell here
I saw a girl.
Where did you see the girl?
In beautiful downtown Burbank.
What kind of girl?
An It Girl,
a sock-it-to-me girl.
Which girl?
That girl.
Read about Judy Carne here
An alpha man
among Alpha Boys;
hornsman,
don't ever stop
your messing around.
O glamorous sister,
your post-war lustre,
from cat's whisker
to humming transistor,
now fades to a whisper.