The Presidential Ball

Look around the room,

THIS is fancy.

My caviar is

glistening in the finest oils,

my oils are glistening

on the finest abs,

and my abs are just

glistening.

THIS is fancy.

Half the men are wearing

suspenders and the other half

are talking with monocles

attached to their face

with nothing but they're there nevertheless.

THIS is fancy.

Where all good and cordial ladies

are wearing hoop skirts

you could fit a grain silo under

and where my mothers talking to the mayor

and the mayor is smoking a cigar-

not listening to what my mother is saying.

THIS is fancy.

Here the drinks are flowing

like the Exon vel Deeze and

the governor is sharing a drink

with the president when my mother, again,

fails to edge her way into the fancy conversation.

THIS is fancy.

So gird your loins

and bite your thumb

and for god sakes somebody

talk to my beautiful mom,

because THIS is fancy

and my mother can't get a word in edge wise.