swirl my skirts with farts,
stinky consonants, vaudeville
fat men doing spit takes-
at least those guys were funny,
bringing out rolling chuckles
from shopgirls and tailors,
whole audiences held up
in matinee splendor, shoddy
pleasure, shooters and spuds.
No one caught meetings,
over-thought; it was “sink or swim,
bud, you better make ‘em laugh”
Pudding gives proof, blood speaks
simple: life is pain until you die-
enjoy the dancing bear before he eats you.