[I] had pretty plumage once.
WB Yeats “Among School Children”
A good while back, my libido stole one of my bags,
packed his Hawaiian shirts and leisure suits,
hitched a ride downtown to Calhoun Street
and hopped a Trailways bus to Mexico.
Can’t really say I miss him all that much,
that Wicked Wilson Pickett shtick:
Uh, you know I feel alright!
Ha, Feel pretty good y’all!
All that preening Mick Jagger wannabe shit.
No, as my dead old lecher
Daddy Yeats once wrote,
“Better to smile on all that smile, and show
There is a comfortable kind of old scarecrow.”
Still, it’d be nice to get a postcard, every now and then,
from some bordello somewhere south of the border.