Opening
Party.
Glass
Of
Booze,
The
Slap
Slap
Of
My
Shoes,
The
Ruse
Of
How
Are
Ya,
Mighty
Fine.
I’ve
An
Inability
In
Public
Galleries
To
Shine,
Even
With
Wine,
Even
If
The
Work
Is
Mine.
Empty
Tunes
As
Through
The
Rooms
I wend,
Wishing
I could
Unbend,
Get
In
The
Groove,
Until
The
Sluggish
Clock
Moves
Into
Late,
And
I can
Find
The
Gate.
So
Long,
Bye
Bye,
I sigh,
What
A
Show,
And
Happily,
I can
Go.