David McLansky

(5/24/1944 / New York City)

The White Ship (35)


(35) The Marble Room


She asked to see where I lived;
Now what excuse could I give?
I said I was not that kind if guy,
She laughed at my pretentious lie.

She said a banker must be neat
She was looking for a toilet seat
She said she badly had to pee
The consequence of too much tea,

I raised my arm and hailed a cab
I felt a painful elbow jab
A stranger tried to steal our ride
She boldly shoved the thief aside

I gave the cabbie my address
I saw that she was quite impressed
I had hoped to get to know her better
Before she saw my awning’s letter.

The doorman smiled at my selection
Saluting me with warm inspection
Santo shut the brass lift gate,
Admired the legs of my date.

We rode the numbers ever higher
Uncomfortable, I now perspired
Soon all my jokes she would find funny
Knowing I had so much money.

But her only comment when I turned the key
Was to reiterate she had to pee;
I showed her to the master bathroom
And mixed some drinks in the billiard room.

She finally found me, somewhat dazed,
She called my bachelor pad a maze,
She said the toilet was superb,
She had almost squatted on the curb.

The Persian rugs, the chandeliers,
The Chinese jugs, the framed Vermeer,
Typically inspired awe
And would turn a Nun into a whore.

“Not bad, ” she looked around and said,
“No wonder that you’ve never wed.
Is there any money left in the vault?
So you’re rich; it’s not your fault! ”

Submitted: Tuesday, April 09, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, October 09, 2013

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