Paparazzi
Papa-rot-sea
Downtown at the Uptown/
the class clown/
runnin’ on fumes of toxic clutter/
muttered /
shuttered /
buttered the breath\of/
her breathless/depthlessness\
deep down inside/
she’s shallow/
but a hard act to follow/
lots and lots\of/ wallow to swallow/
call me callow/
call me cad/
she called me the Cab Calloway\of/the Holloway Motel/
She was retro like that/
And\ I/ as always/was future/imperfect.
Click.
In reckless/ fecklessness/
\w/
imported impunity/
her whole damn community/
immuned\ from/immunity\
was up in arms/
and down on uppers/
was ground round/
and ready to tweak/
from that freaky sneak peek\@/ the speakeasy/beneath the peak of Pico/
to the shores of the Skeletal Keys/
in the rear of the Key Club/near Largo/
she’s a walking embargo/
Smile babe or vomit/
You wanna be a comet/
we need the cargo/
This ain’t trigonometry
Don’t just stand there/
Feed the economy.
Click. Click. Click.
Copyright © Scott Lane | Year Posted 2009
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