The elephant in the room sits politely and sips his tea, watching us with amusement
We ignore him—as always—and make polite small talk
And the elephant gets a little fatter the smaller we talk

Your show, my show, the Mötley Crüe show
or the current residency in Vegas
Open mics, closed mouths.

Solidbody, hollowbody, halfway in between
and have you tried the new cobalts
Do they warrant the extra cost?

Old Aerosmith, new Danko Jones, the immortal Stones
and do I like the Dolls as much as Thunders?
Dirty hosts, cleaned up bios.

Dancing around the elephant still. I don’t see him. You don’t either.
we appreciate the scales on our eyes.

Things brought up in passing out of concern for politeness
a desire to not offend by omission

Things unsaid in pressing concern for awkwardness
a desire to not pretend, an admission

It’s cool with me if you don’t show up,
believe it or not:
I wasn’t expecting you anyway.

The elephant already whispered to me that you will never be my husband.