My dahhhling, these are sweet potato greens,
it’s like a super-sexy spinach leaf,
of course it’s all the rage with local teens,
and that’s Hawaiian sea salt for the beef.

This dinner party’s glaring brighter than
the vulgar thing I went to yesterday,
which had been hosted by a cultured man:
I’m so glad you could make tonight’s soirée.

The Toms and Daisies bounce about the yard,
and glitter as if gilded butterflies,
but laughing doesn’t stop the avant-garde,
the philistines, and others we despise.

Oh how the platitudes appear at dusk,
about the hedges, bleeding pungent musk.