O, boorish me… O, dullard me
She did not marry me for my personality
My bon vivants surely did not pay the rent
I was much less Superman than I was Clark Kent
A stylish dancer I was not
My feet got tied-up in a sailor’s knot
As for culture, I had none … gol-darn
My favorite painting was “The Cow by the Barn”
Despite it all, she proposed to me
~ The night I won the lottery
The Bon Vivants
held an important meeting at the restaurant.
Happy faced Lauren,
her BF Laurence, and her
BFF Laurance Olivier queried:
“What is it, what is the thing
we all want?”
Leaning back, Lauren
-smoking hot and smoking
-lip sticked lips caressing her Gitane
-puffed, puffed, puffed
smoke signals into the air, and sighed.
“We want to be happy and satisfied,
and snappy, since the sadness died.
We want to move beyond
the tears we’ve cried,
and eat baked potatoes
-versus French ones fried
-maybe onion rings perhaps,
though not French per se.
But let’s not forgo the key:
lime pie.
Green, tart, and -oh -so-
aromatic; in the right hands an art
form
over function
-and clearly in conjunction
with the mirth
of the Bon Vivants Tribe.
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