Because to my left a three year old boy sucking an Elmo pacifier
has already caught a stuffed Pikachu, a glowing light saber,
and six Saints footballs and to my right a blond teenager
squeezes her cleavage together to hog the roses and pearls
when I’ve only caught junk beads, a stale banana MoonPie,
and a pack of cherry condoms because I’m an adult male
with a penis that still shoots, but I bet you jack off too
so why not give up a plastic hatchet or a bouncy ball
to a fellow hard working white collar American who’s
flailing his arms off like a goddamn ostrich trying to fly?
I’ll lift my shirt, if  you want, show my floppy miniburgers
and the tat of Orion drawing his sword I got when I
still believed that I could shag any college girl I chose,
hell I’ll even climb the float and whisper something nasty like
let me stroke your balls, you horny motherfucker you
if there’s a handful of silver doubloons in it for me,
because listen, pal, I really don’t need to show off a glow in the dark
Endymion medal or to drink anymore whiskey from plastic cups
or even to take home a Marvin the Martian pillow for my bed,
I just want you to point at me, nod, and blow me a sweet little mankiss.