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Happiness Is A Gin & Tonic, Fool
Fitz and his darling Z--
Oh! What he wouldn’t give to love her.
His shining Sayre champagne.
She roars
like the times
and prances,
with a gin and tonic in her hands.
With Jazz in her steps
she swayed
around in her androgynous dress.
She
spilled
wine
on
his
sheets,
like
ink
it
will
never
cease.
Engraved in his mind
are the words she poured out those nights.
When her life was all jumbled,
while she had a rumble,
in that jungle,
with
way
too
many
tumbles
down.
He let his golden flapper fall steep,
onto the colorless ground.
Where there was no sound.
He put her feathers to rest
and with the pen in his hands,
their lust became lost.
It became dust.
The gin and tonic
all gone.
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