There are one hundred and one famous poemsSitting upon my shelf leather boundIts yellowed pages have not been turnedIn forever and a dayI come across Dante Gabriel Rossetti and his Blessed DamozelLooking for my page, looking for my ageand I laid his poem upon my couch and wept.

Give us this dayOur daily breadGive us this dayFor we, the nearly deadGive us this dayThe under-appreciated massesGive us this dayFor hard hats and safety glassesGive us this dayWho rise to catch the day's first busGive us this dayChasing notes that read, "In God We Trust" Give us this dayThat teach us well, the teachersGive us this dayThat forgive us all, the preachersGive up this dayFor the smile on the face of the lunc...

Somehow brought up on the rules of the game Somehow brought up to the plate Somehow brought up to look straight in the eye Somehow brought up to lead off the base Somehow brought up to field ground balls Somehow brought up to think on the fly Somehow brought up alone

Bogart and Bergman in Casablancanever left the backlot Kerouac and Ginsberg in Tangiers where Allen discovered America and Jack his desolate angels Crosby, Stills and Nash on the Marrakech Express but only one rode the train through the night Fagen and Becker and The Fez borrowed a dildo from Burroughs lunch Canetti had his voices and his prize Homer had his monkey's paw from the Medina in Marrakech Where Orwell wrote an...

As Sunset Amy dips into the seaShe rises in my heart A tentative summer's smile An autumn's first kiss farewell We awkwardly said, "Hello" Proclaimed proudly from atop the Alondra HotelBarra de Navidad stops to watch As Sunset Amy dips into the sea She rises in my heart

This, sure as Hellis not Harry's Barin Puerto Vallartawhere trannies and hookersdrink for freeon ladies nightThis, sure as Hellis not Harry's Barin Puerto Vallartawhere I have spentmy New Year's EveThis, ain't evenHarry's Bar in Firenze, Italywhere Hemingway hackswould flock for a weekendThis, is Harry's Bar!That, is my Bellini!These, are my memories of Venice!

The ice is drinking my AbsintheEthereal worms dance in my glassI have to improvise while wearing spatsMy TV is wearing a Hawaiian shirt (it's red if you are into details)and speaks to me only in ItalianI'm tempted to tell it that Absinthe is Frenchbut I'd feel silly talking to a box with electrodes - Do those even exist in the 21st century?The ice is drinking my AbsintheIt has consumed three drinks alreadyThere was one be...