Not Yeatsian

It was only much later—

When he found the empty roll of toilet paper

On the floor of the bath—

That he knew he was rich,

Ready to offer a spot of cash

To the drunkest bum on the bus

(Ignoring the vomit down the front of his blues)

Or to waste a couple hours in any of a dozen bars

Playing game after game of pool

With the sullen pre-verbal

Barkeep snapping his gum

In time to the crickets or murmuring mm hmm

After every sip of the eggnog.

Didn't he have like a frog

No lips to speak of, and the weathered lizard

Look of the frequently face-lifted?

Until the girls came in from the spa

Shouting "It's May, it's May!"

Strange, when he thought back on it—

He only remembered the frisky bits.