I am the secret confidant of Fame.
She tells me all about her current lovers—
The schmucks who come while moaning their own name,
Or go down on her underneath the covers.
She says that none of them have satisfied her—
They’re only in it for the lick or poke,
So they can tell the world they’ve been astride her.
(I call her Marilyn; she gets the joke.)
And yes, I want her so much I can’t think.
But I refuse to catch her carnal eye
Because I know her fetish and her kink—
So I’ll stay cordial till the day I die.
Which is the only day she'll love me back
Because Fame is a necrophiliac.
Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells