ALL THOSE JUMBLED IDIOTS
They're still standing around - fancy shirts
and stupid-assed ascots; like Prince Charles
or something but without the horse and the
polo mallet. Who knew it would come to this?
Certainly not me. Playing pegboard games in
the center-lounge, the sweet young thing brings
drinks. A table for cards, a dictionary on a podium
with wheels. Carting around words for Willies, I
guess. Someone in another room playing Scrabble?
It's heard the parade stepped off at noon; now it's
three and they're just returning. This is the reception
I've been told to be at : ('bring me coffee, yes, too').
Some girls come in looking like drum majorettes.
People still twirl? People still do that stuff? I watch
the guy in the cape and red high-hat come in behind
them. Must be the highly-vaunted Grand Marshall
Bettes. I think he comes from the old country, just
for this gig. But why? What can it pay? Prestige
'Prestige. Prestige alone,' they say.