Shoeshine Man Waxes Hendrix or Presley
"The power of the teenage females of thirteen, fourteen, fifteen,
when they're in a gang, has never left me. They nearly killed me."
-- Keith Richards, Life
The leopard skin cross-strapped stiletto high heel idol looks fine
on Gurt's hood hectoring New Year's dawn. Beetle masthead
tipped like Dylan's lowland cow, Elvis' mercury mouth sucks
margarita circuit synagogue icebergs -- at least princelings
seem so in thought crimes behind leopard skin Buddy Hollys.
A masculine Divine embracing her curves, sad-eyed Callas blind-
man bluffs Stevie Wonder. Coked to the pillbox gills, Jagger's
flip-flop lips don't wanna have sex with anything: blowhard
laboring to love Little Richard's uncircumcised leopard skin
ducks down on a maiden aunt's bedspread. Crackers tumbled
from Elton's country estate pantry'd rather have esthetician
leopard skin great balls of fire gather no cast-iron moss.
Heirloom lord of the manor, Jerry Lee's Southern Comfort
dancing shoes grind under Lloyd Price's vainglorious
thong. Gaga's unwashed leopard skin pantyhose marinate
above beasty best jackboots. Worn by a breathless shorn
skateboarding Manfred Mann, Bowie's hairnets smell
mighty sweet. Day-tripping all boils down to leopard skin.
