MEDICAL SCHOOL SKELETON
WITH DOMINO'S PIZZA MAN
Superbowl XXX. And see, strung-out and thin,
The skeleton has been exposed against
The Domino's Pizza man, enveloped in
A black felt background. Poor Bones, he's been flensed.
That baggy uniform, a backwards cap,
He's pierced; he's heroin chic; but he's all grins,
Come from the darkness in his rattletrap,
Burlesquer, rake, this rack of candlepins,
Giving long odds, right here at the front door,
A real smoothie, with a faint ennui,
And winning the bet he'll be returning for.
Another working stiff, like you or me.
PROFILES: ANNE DANCING WITH SKELETON
(Or was it XXXI? Oh well.) That's Anne.
And look who's back in this one: portrait style,
You see, Anne's dancing with the pizza man,
Our old friend Bonesy, with the killer smile,
Doing a sort of earthy, homegrown bop,
With those dark, bedroom eyes and the cleft chin,
Belting it out like soul with ZZ Top,
But think about his humble origin,
Bouyant with life, jouissance, the growing buzz
About tough prizes won along the way
And toasted. But, then, everybody was.
Becoming much the man you see today.