YouLoveMe

A business is a kind of arena, It's a non-violent venue for struggle, You tussle with mayors like Dwayne and Sheena, You have to be both wizard and muggle. The grumpy people, they criticize you, "You're out for money!  You're acting unfair!" They act superior, they don't realize you    are making much less than they, they don't care. I was grumpy to you, and I was wrong, I benefited greatly from your works, From your conjoining business with art's song, From your fusing commerce with social perks. Marcia, you are a true benefactor, You are the best kind of social actor.

ABCDEF FAEBDC CFDABE ECFABD DEACFB BDFECA ECA I Others embellish, I tell the truth. I will relate the facts of the affair, Of the trip to Ireland, of the comet's flash, Of the captive princess escorted by the knight,  Of the misdrunk potion that made  drank their fates twinned, And led them after many mishaps to a shared vine-entwined grave.

I was flying away from doom to doom, From Joe Biden's rot to Ind'ia's issues. It's a whole year later, let's make some room, Let's stop crying.  Throw away the tissues. I was preoccupied with guilt and shame, Now I would like to try a new approach, Let me give up my thoughts of Hell and fame. I want to ride in Emma's enclosed coach. Let me be validly good and bad, I want to create a happy road home, Yes, ecstasy is outweighed by the sad, New York is truly no better than Rome. I now have an optimistic line, Please feel free to say no--that's just fine.

Gayle Sayres was third, all of those years ago, I am an even less glorious fourth, A loser in the Boswash to and fro, Behind D.C 's south and Cambridge's north. I believe New York's best in biz and arts, While Boston excels in science and zeal, D.C.'s best in vying for people's hearts, Philly trails--that's truth, not just my own feel. But Philly is the place that draws me in, It's like my much-loved Jersey, but urban, A repository of city sin, A purple state, rural and suburban. You Northeast leaders--you are truly great, I prefer Philly and my fourth-rate fate.

How does privilege work?  Let me show you how, From my park bench in Upper Montclair, I saw how its reproduction works now, With a mom and a daughter with blonde hair. Daughter is four or five with a frilled skirt, Mom lifts her into, I think, a child seat, Underneath, shorts--she's no Lolita flirt, She's too young to grasp her erotic heat. But in her later years, she'll understand, She'll wear the same outfit, but now she'll know, That for her body, there is a demand,  That she'll do well to conceal, and to show. She may decide that her privilege is wrong, Or she may use it to sing a sweet song.

                   Krishna  I wish I could write to you, Mirabai, I wish I could at last let my hair down, But mine is the fate of one who can't die,  Who must always wear a heavenly crown. Do not be attached to petty result, Arjuna.  I said that--and I believe, But I--with Lord Vishnu I must consult, If my avatar rankings fall, I grieve. My frolicking gopi days are long gone, I'm chained to the star-maker machine'ry, My sun-dark complexion grows pale and wan, I can no longer enjoy the scene'ry. A rule-following agent--that's my type. Do you want to be me?  Don't buy the hype.