EASY CHOICE

Don't marry money, marry me!
It's fine to fly your Cesna to Capri,
to dine on quails' eggs au gratin,
make love, then read in Le Matin
of your own exploits at the Ritz
when breakfasting on Poles or Brits.
And yet it's finer still to skinny-dip
in Titicaca and to scandalise
Aymara fishermen whose vacant eyes
light up as you emerge to drip
in frigid gold sunrise.

And yet each time you dissipate
a fortune you will lose another mate
while you postpone age with skin cream
a few more years - And no harem
of men will stop it in its tracks.
But I'm so poor I don't pay tax;
my garret's furnished with enchanted thoughts.
I could not prostitute you if I would,
nor hanker for your misplaced maidenhood,
nor sue you in the civil courts.
Shun money! - Marry me!