WE LOST IT WITH MELANCHTHON
   
 

Grinding one's tush is the big news in fashion
And translates the past into influences of style.
The erregend shoppe of the Victorian era
Endures stiff collars and Gibson Girl ideals.
Turn of the Century vignettes authenticate
The clothing, the furniture, the cell phone.

   
 

Would a spanking new Overland horseless carriage
Run over a lady dressed-to-the-nines
For dinner at Recor's or the auto show?
The glamour of a Bed & Breakfast era,
The trinkets and treasures,
Frou-frou, peignoirs and lap-top khutspe.

   
  In the back room there are magazines.

Not even certain a Loci communes can be executed—
Let alone a hazing cadenza played—
Fund raisers make excuses.

Something dead is buried in the Dean's cellar
Under lost vision.
   
 
Copyright ©1987, 2005 by Bob Romanelli & Basil Tuxaxle
 
Editor: Margot suggested the final stanza be sung in the dorian mode. Chauncey volunteered to sing it. We are still considering Margot's suggestion. We are not considering Chauncey's in the least [Get a grip, Chauncey.]