Chewing the Fat With His Photo
Look at your balding pate, it looks as grey
as storm clouds, whereas mine’s linguini-sleek.
Look at the duds you’re modeling. Today,
if you marched round in those, people would shriek
or snigger, gawk, or try to get away.
Where I am, folks consider me quite chic.
And, anyway, I have all of my teeth.
That’s true. But I am wiser underneath,
as knowledgeable as a man my age
should be. I’ve learned that money isn’t all
there is in life. I’ve learned one mustn’t gauge
such things as joy by how one’s acres sprawl.
In fact, the place I live is a mere cage,
a studio. You mean you dropped the ball
on my investments? Don’t be so irate!
You’re just a photograph. End of debate.
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