[While listening to American Theater Organ Society Radio]
Steatopygous
Shall we dance to this organ
From the days of over the top
Theater decor in major cities
And just who am I asking
To pretend he would not trip me
It's my own enlarged posterior
Sliding so easily in my shorts
Across the blanketed chair
From which I shall not rise
As gentle flutes sing their invite
He can't pretend that ten pounds
Now lost to these months
Is spectacular to everyone
Who'd watch this festooned nob
Sway in elegant elephantisms
I shall remove this extended hand
To remain seated while embarrassed
That such a thought would cross
My sleepy and swampy thoughts
Barry G. Wick
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