Shoppin’ Spree
Cash burnin' a hole in my pocketGotta buy me a new pair o' pants
Flameproof this time
And while I'm at it
Gonna buy me some spiffy new knee joints, self-lubricatin'
A pair o' 20-20 eyeballs
Permaplucked brows, preshaved legs
A belly so flat it'll double as a ironin' board
A boxed set of orgasms, shakin' like Jagger in a California quake
A big ole IQ over 150—expensive but worth every million
Or billion or gazillion of my hard-earned pay
A storage locker for cigarette jingles and old boyfriends' food preferences
I'm gonna buy me a whole new passle o' friends
And a collector's edition of anecdotes to impress 'em with, certified fresh by famous comedians
I'm gonna get me a classy personality, type-A alpha-dog, 14-carat, time-tested, precision-engineered
I'm gonna to take it out for a spin and whoopee watch out
I'm layin' out for a whole new presentation, six foot tall with silver sideburns
Plus a blonde ponytail that'll swing like a pendulum when I'm out winnin' marathons
And a headful of dreadlocks, that's me chillin' in shades on the hit album cover
I'll also be purchasin' a whole new wardrobe from Paree
And a silhouette to go with it,
Yep, springin' for a classic tall n' thin, how 'bout you
I'll be tradin' in my belly fat for a double-D stand-up chest
I'm gonna be all miniskirts and leather boots, me with my new leg-extenders
'Cept on Tuesdays when I'll be pure natural-fabric insouciance in caftans and muumuus
Smellin' up the party with clouds of jasmine and other irresistable organic essences
I'm subscribin' to a style consultant, charm school, personal trainer; I'll bench-press five
times my body weight with my savoir-faire and impeccable table manners,
my smilin' teeth white as a four-star washcloth
I'm goin' all out for a internal disk drive; I'm goin' to livestream me the Wikipedia so I
know everythin' about everythin', just ask me about the Shays Rebellion or how to
make gravlax for twelve, or when you got nothin' in the fridge but a half-empty
box of crusted bakin' soda and some outdated mayonnaise how to whip up a
gourmet candlelit budget dinner for sixteen restaurant critics so tasty it'll get you
on the cover of Vogue and a statue in the town square
I'm snappin' up the most fantastic set of relatives, the kind that has fun reunions in the
Adirondacks, regularly produces a crop of curly-haired kids who drop off while
singin' round the campfire and grandparents who take 'em to the circus and leave
'em their priceless art collections with no strings attached and magic-trick uncles
dispensin' peppermints nickels and advice only when asked
And have a charmin' old family homestead on the beach, with titanium plumbing
I'm shellin' out for a round-the-world cruise in the comfort of my very own rec room,
turquoise leatherette recliner right out there on the poop deck, whatever that is
But first I need me a new house, cute and self-cleanin', needs a oil change only every hundred thousand years
I'm gonna nab me a religion that commands a nightly sacrifice of roast lamb studded with
rosemary and garlic, one that's got itself a god with no problem loanin' out his
lightnin' bolt when some lout on the bus is yappin' all his borin' beeswax into a
cellphone or the boss is an idiot
I need me a brand spankin' new set of cherry-red toenails and a tangle-free hairdo color-coordinated
to my high-tech body-shapin' sweat-proof polka-dot underwear and a computer
that never needs ironin'
A hairy eyeball for when the kids get snotty
I'm loadin' up on a fascinatin' highbrow journal that's easy to read as a discount
sportswear catalog, a theater subscription I never have to go to, a Book-o'-the-Month
Club of books I already read, a set of dishpan hands for some houseguest
who forgets to send a thank-you note
I'm splurgin' on a hot-off-the-presses new country in a white dress, wildflowers clean up
and down the highways full o' bicycles, and cookouts and free concerts in the
town squares every Sunday and no currency and a garden on every rooftop and a
flag flappin' from every lamppost in tie-dye pastels, where the national anthem is
Al Green croonin' Love and Happiness
Where wild horses crop the medians and trot up to your car window at stoplights to
crunch one of them natural-sugar lumps you got stashed in the glove compartment
and the televisions are all broken and the car alarms are thrown down the
defunct coal mines
And did I mention the free milkshake dispensers in the national parks?
I'm puttin' a down payment on a summer igloo in the Arctic, a winter beach shack in
Honolulu with a grand piano a candelabra and a motor-operated flip-proof surfboard
A pen that does the Sunday crossword in ten minutes, an ever-warm English muffin with
the world's tastiest jam, a endless summer morning
Stretchin' till the grand finale of the universe, I'll pay any price
But also a ringside seat at the next Big Bang, complete with protective eyewear, earplugs,
and a explanation in the program that a poet could understand
A vacation on Mars, all expenses paid, and while I'm out there a ice-skatin' tour round the
rings of Saturn—with photo ops, a jumprope contest on the Moon, a sauna on Venus
And I'll pick me up some Northern Lights for my living room, a caribou to keep down the
weeds out back, carved-ice tumblers for my next dinner party
Of course a flyin' carpet to go visit grandma
A up-down escalator for my very own home, barbecue delivered by zeppelin on my birthday
A quetzal nestin' on my front porch who greets me with a new Spanish love song every mornin'
A lie detector for my charm bracelet to wave over the daily news
A commandment to spend every Sunday in the hammock reading PG Wodehouse with a
glass of chardonnay on pain of excommunication
A President who does whatever the hell I tell him, a dog who walks me and feeds me treats
whenever I shake somebody's paw
Error-free typin'
A cure for the common cold that'll make me the world's richest poet
O' course for old times' sake a pony and a pirate lover, and daily home delivery of the world's
finest chocolate,
Non-fattenin'
A cookie jar chock-full of exuberance, a trunk of perfect hostess gifts, heartfelt
condolence cards that say just the right thing, sensitivity I can turn off
like a faucet
A dozen healthy children who always make their bed and say yes mother dear admirin'
my wisdom and get straight As; each plays a different musical instrument in the
family band
A paradigm shifter, a bullshit zapper, a anti-asteroid shield that'll cover everyone, 'cept
them too cheap to shell out the greenbacks for our nation's protection
Books of brilliant poems authored by myself so long ago I don't remember
I'm gonna buy me
A brand new me
Monogrammed, gift-wrapped,
Satisfaction guaranteed
Or my money back
