Jeffrey Hull

Broadway


I’m just your stage door Johnny,
Another decked out swell;
My clothes are flash, I'm scrawny:
I'm just a burned out shell.


Show me that nuance, baby,
Give me that winsome smile;
Blow me a kiss and maybe
I'll hang around a while.


You know my camera loves you,
The f-stop of my eye
Records what fortune shoves you;
This Nikon cannot lie.


Here comes that Broadway feeling
I've had so many times;
My cheap burlesque reheeling
Old jokes and pantomimes.


That good old Broadway feeling,
The curtain's going up;
They laugh to watch me reeling
To drink my bitter cup.


I'll pack my bags for Splitsville
And forward all my mail;
These worn out shticks and bits will
Just slide on down the trail.


That same sad Broadway feeling
As sure as sure can be
Tells me you're double-dealing:
Our time is history.


© 2006 Jeffrey Hull A significant edit of the original - not posted heretofor.