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To His Blank Laptop
by Danny "Don Juan" Henrey
Had we but RAM enough and time,
This dark screen, Think Pad, were no crime.
We would fester and think which way
To sunbathe best, and make sweet hay.
Thou by the mighty Hudson’s side
Shouldst lope along: I’d take a ride
To Barney’s for some strides. I might
Conjure fancies in warm dusk’s light:
Such florid joys should bloom as fast
As Uma’s pad, though scarce as vast.
With Steve’s fresh opus at the Met.
We might a week or two forget:
Or hundred lovesick hours fill
With Karen at grand Gotham’s grill;
With Raymond at McSorley’s inn
Our conscience sink in stoups of gin:
Or else in furling waters trail
A lazy limb, whilst Guy should sail
Our speeding skiff to obscure bays,
That vanish e’er in azure haze.
But at my back I always hear
Richard’s rusty Aston hurrying near:
Like moments that careless fly,
We durst not idly let it by;
For if in life thou choose to race,
Then must aspire to win first place:
And, as the seconds careless tick,
Know we will all the bucket kick—
’Tis but the chequered flag of fate;
Our final and devoted date,
Whose fixed smile and bony lips
The lingering sighs from us sips.
Now therefore while thy CPU
Hums with electrons, my Big Blue,
And while thy willing keys perspire,
Like Chris ablaze with school-nymph fire,
Let’s Krasner-like, ablaze with flame
Streak clam’rous through this rhyming game:
It’s fun to play and vacillate,
But heroes don’t procrastinate.
Let others plans confused seem
(Here Donna close to Mad Jack leaned…)
As if we prove no ornament
To glory’s puff—more like a dent—
These lines, cast forth on mortal seas,
May drift as small eternities,
If they in passing, passing please.