During the last percussive century
When savory was in vogue
And the former child star was assaying
To bring sexy back
And what doddard imagined that
The waspish power had gone anywhere

The streets were bathed in yellow
Preparing for the emergent anaphora
A song of whatever witlessism

Furthermore
Index finger crooked aloft
Like the gas line of a flivver
We shan’t
They spoke that way
We shan’t have any extensions
Of this willing fracas
Splendidly generously superfluous

The depth of deep rumination
The length of long winters

Whispered suggestiveness
Let’s forget the gravitation hon
And mosey thitherward
Or amble sashay or promenahd
Some sophisticated intonation

Mood indigo liberating UV

You seem to have forgotten one thing
My honored rival
Where are the snows
What is the signal
Who are the ones
Who remain open to suggestion
To tolerate ambiguity