I am the man in the top hat,
Swinging a cane, down the boulevard.
I unscrew the top of my cane, and it contains
Not a sword, but a long sip of absinthe.
I am sitting in a bistro, my legs are crossed,
Watching the swing of passing skirts.
I am the one the teachers cursed, smiling,
“He just does not apply himself!”
I am the cat who lands on his feet,
I am a hound, lazing in the sun.
I wrote a story of 16,600 words.
I wondered what had possessed me.
I prefer to scribble out poetry,
Finished in a single sitting.
I never learned to march in step;
I will dabble at anything you ‘play’.
I prefer to be ankle deep.
Whenever they again give a war,
I will say “wait till I finish my drink.”
If you think still waters run deep,
You have forgotten the meaning of the words.
I have the time to contemplate these things,
As I stroll without a goal.
I will kiss you, whoever you are;
I inflict poetry only to seduce.
My lovely, if you do truly desire me,
Do not play hard to get.
I will lead my life without effort;
I will be neither Buddhist, nor believer, nor atheist.
I will sit in the coffee shop and watch the girls.
Right! Find me guilty of nothing! Bang the gavel.
I am a stroller on the sidewalks;
I know everything is forgotten.
I know, in a world where everything ends,
I cannot waste my time, so
Take my hand along the boulevards;
Let us embrace in every doorway.