I sat in the sand, admiring the beach
And all of life's glories that come to it.
Wandering, my eye caught the glimpse
Of one of California's great treasures.
Gliding past me,
Man, that ass did sway.
It swayed like a palm tree in a cool breeze,
It swung like some low, heavy jazz,
In a dark, candle-lit corner
Of a city block, men in buttoned shirts,
Women in low-cut, slimming black dress.
Their own asses grooving
In leather-skinned booths,
Laughing, craving cigarettes,
Craving more gin.
Man, what an ass.
But she never looked back.
Probably for the best.
She would never see the great John Ellis Ranger.
Not the musician, poet, conqueror of the world.
Just a dog, wide-eyed and grinning like an idiot.