Tuesday, June 7, 2011

dear dorothy parker:



when i ponder lovely ladies
slipping sweetly down to hades,
hung and draped with glittering booty -
am i distant, cold and snooty?
though i know the price their pearls are
am i holier than the girls are?
though they're lavish with their "yes's,"
do i point and shake my tresses?
no! i'm filled with awe and wonder.
i review my every blunder....
do i have the skill to tease a
guy for an hispano-suiza?
i can't even get me taxis
off to sydney, abes and maxies!
do the pretty things i utter
to the kings of eggs and butter
gain me pearls as big as boulders,
clattering, clanking round my shoulders,
advertising, thus, their full worth?
no, my dear. mine come from woolworth.
does my smile across a table
win a cloak of russian sable?
bab, no. i'd have to kill a
man to get a near-chinchila.
men that come on for conventions
show me brotherly attentions;
though my glance be fond and melting,
do they ever start unbelting
with the gifts they give the others?
no! they tell me of their mothers,
to the baby's pictures treat me,
say they want the wife to meet me!
gladly i'd be led to slaughter
where the ermine flows like water,
where the gay white globes are lighted;
but i've never been invited!
so my summary, in fact, is
what an awful flop my act is!

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