Thursday, July 16, 2015



Bess Myerson,
former Miss America,
once flirted with you.
I grant that I was more
amused than angry.
And why should she not?
You charmed even
insomniac owls,
soothing them
with your well modulated
and your choice lectures
on gangsters.
You sat and smoked
like a 40's movie star,
giving great play
to the abrupt removal
of the cigarette
from your lips
and puffing almost
as if you had an ax
to grind
with the cigarette paper.

Now you are married
and your house
has been museumed
by your artistically expert
who showed me the jewelry
you'd bought her
when I came to visit.

Her cat hung out
in the kitchen
and nosed for treats.
I liked her cat.
She did not like me.
As we left,
she said, "Have a great trip,

Bess Myerson,even,
was more polite
in the midst
of trying to nab you.

I hear you do not smoke
these days -
spot on your lung.

A pity.

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