Skoal!
It's "The Children's Hour," as Franklin Delano
dubbed it, proffering that famous profile, chin high,
cigarette holder clinched in good dental symmetry,
all the while flashing that celebrated smile. He'd "Walk
a Mile for a Camel," (or the Secret Service would)
while steering us through war, the Great Depression,
and a desert of dry times, not to mention wines,
until he repealed Prohibition, restored civility
and White House Happy Hour to the post meridian.
Scotch or Brandy, his choice; mine, Chardonnay
from Argentina, gaucho land of Peron and his Eva who
demonstrated beauty and brains can survive
in the same body: soul sister to Jayne Mansfield,
hiding her IQ beneath a double-D cup. So, Bottoms up,
children, let the games begin! What'll you have?
Scotch on the Rocks, whiskey or gin? A martini with
two olives, one for you and one for your baby?
Or several of those sweet ones that deck you,
wreck you--three strikes and you're out under
apple, cranberry, or lemon-lime lightning?
Come sip with me for cocktails and a concerto
in my backyard, where afternoon wind wields a baton
for sopranos in the pines, the marsh-myrtle's alto,
and the fig's bellowing bass, empurpled and powerful.
He wouldn't have it any other way: I'm THAT deep,
he rails, wind's in my sails, and you, chattering
children should be practicing your scales.
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