If I were a Famous Author...
a short poem
If I were a famous author and this ink would spill itself,
I'd retire as my works appeared upon the shelves.
I'd be all booked at Borders to sign my masterpiece of poems,
as hipsters lined the streets to see the mustache that I've grown!
Their tattoo and punctured girlfriends would salivate at my tone.
I'd Pull Pavlov's tricks, then just say "Go home."
I'd go to my estate where my girlfriend's in her lingerie,
she'd hold a glass of scotch with nothing much to say.
With crystal to my lips she'd poor me just a sip,
take herself a drink and sway off with those hips.
'cause I'd have business with smug, slimy socialites,
unscrupulous! self promoting types!
But it would all be business,
as their wives flirtatiously touched my arm,
but who could blame them
with looks, wit and my charm!
I'd forgive it,
and order something French.
They'd compliment my culture
as we ate cheese with a stench.
