I count 16 bars that would have me
until the light of day. Every other one was Members Only,
but they still let me play. And in my time of rhyming
I was king, but all the queens they ran away. The finest ones
held me in metal sway. Beyond the leopard-print nostalgia,
a hero lets out a mighty bray. And sometimes a pony
gets depressed, but only if it's lost its chocolate way.
We will hold fast to all our younger rules.
I'm a myna bird on your roof, a Caesar without pride,
I climb the trees outside your room. There is decency to evil
that will not let you go. It crawls along like tarantula doom.
It stutters with a foreign accent. It keeps you in its swoon,
all the words penultimate and blue. You wrap your arms
around the Internet--a bleakly lit cocoon.
I am a lion's den of wonder; a needle and a spoon.