And When I'M Rich

And when I’m rich, I’ll have gold taps and teeth a Harley, a Bentley, and a Cadillac too; and I’ll pay three hookers to parade around the kitchen, all morning, in the nude; it’s where I’m happiest then in the afternoon, three ladies from the church will come, to teach me about goodness, and how to cope without a drink and a blowjob and I’ll invite the establishment and the greens, in their faded blue jeans, to Carnegie Hall; and I’ll sit at a table with a cold beer, and a copy of Guns and Ammo, and I’ll stand up and say, “OK, let’s have some fun, let’s write poetry, and if they couldn’t, I’d tell them, “that’s OK, Haiku, Rhymes, or verse will do.”