hi life...

dare not you mix that scotch with water
sterling silver heated and applied to cauter-
ize slashes and gashes
what color do you really think you bleed
the hue of horse you rode in on is the only steed you need

are your ceegars all mail ordered
humidity balanced while delicately imported
ring bands stretched with caribbean perceptions distorted

is your grape from the south of france
labels memorized and years enhanced
doing the do-whop to the vintage dance
the good life subscription as such described
fine living network pursuits are prescribed
marvin tells you what should quench your thirst
ratings by parker guarantees you’ll be first

nubile nymphets will dance at your feet
should you not at least deserve a front row seat
is your sign utmost and sublime
fat chance buck-o
the dollar is still in decline

I smoke my ceegars to the bitter end
inhaling all the suffering of tobacco production sin
I chase them down with a virgin dr pepper
I know the end result be not that much better

my wine is quite young
bitter it sits on the end of the tongue
and yet no drop is feared for the sink
a paper cup or bag is from where I drink

many a time I’ve missed the yacht with fewest of fears
the tavern down the street still boasts nightly two for one beers
so here is where sits my particular renaissance
hidden treasures abound with more than a little nuance
I fully understand the six degrees of separation
that’s why you’ll find me smiling behind the bar at libation station