You give a knowing wink
To Saint Peter as the gates whir open
You're off the map boy
With just a soul to your name
You pile your clothes and credit cards
On top of your toys and bones
And walk in whistling
Adios Republicans cops and commuting
Concupiscent thoughts drift in
Where's the girls music and beverages?
Rod Serling walks around the corner
In a cloud of smoke.
---o0o---
copyright (c)2005 by Jack Brummet
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