i wanted Marilyn Monroe

i wanted Marilyn Monroe
inside my pup tent
but she had her own silly ideas,
and firmly threw back the front flap and went
off to the Screen Actor's Guild.
i grabbed a 20th Century Fox sword
and an armored shield,
headed to a noisy bar room brawl,
past the open back door and down a narrow hall
where i heard about the slaughter at Verdun;
what had been done?
i felt naked without my whiskey and smoking gun,
tried to stiffen my spine;
felt an empty wallet and knew it was mine.
i had my own special fun;
she wore her Superwoman's cape.
i roped her to a folding chair
but she made a circus escape,
living the expatriate life on the west coast,
older by a decade than most.
i wore my cowboy hat and a deep frown,
her silk scarf and a princess gown
and had a little in common with the boys
who kept coming around
at twenty until four with their favorite toys,
leading me to flee to a bohemian camp fire!
i sat on the sign that said 'Worker for Hire'
and fed the two happy dogs
who were guarding the seating area logs
in exchange for a soft pet on their head.
i laid down in my straw mat bed
and dreamed of Marilyn Monroe
holding her skirt above a blast of hot air:
i imagined myself there
but she still said "No."