Jacqueline Susann

I want to meet her mother of invention
Make her late for her Foucault convention
Leering like a fresh parolee, a shore-leave sailor
Reeling up my tongue
Dirty pants, out-of-style glasses
A credit overload of comp lit classes
Sucking on a frozen latte, may as well just
Suck my blood
She yawns and the whole train lurches
I want to gum up her plans
Would that I was a book in her hands
She’s reading Ford Madox Ford
And Jacqueline Susann
Timid Chivalry at the turnstile
Was that a smirk? Was that a smile?
May only be as deep as skin
But I’ll know for certain if she lets me in
She yawns and the whole world lurches
I want to gum up her plans
Would that I was a book in her hands
Cry she’s reading Ford Madox Ford
And Jacqueline Susann
Follow her to the escalator
Follow her up the escalator
Follow her down the escalator
Watch her walk
I want to gum up her plans
Would that I was a book in her hands
Cry she’s reading Ford Madox Ford
And Jacqueline Susann
Jacqueline Susann
Jacqueline Susann
Jacqueline Susann