There are dirty, oink, oink, old white
guys with an enormous amount of fleeting,
dying, extinguishing, vanishing power
grabbing, grabbing, grabbing, thinking
with their Little Elvis, dealing with
their Little Elvis, intimidating with
their Little Elvis, imploring with their
Little Elvis, begging with their Little
Elvis, threatening with their Little
Elvis when finally after the smoke clears
and the millions have been spent, all they
are left with is their limp Little Elvis to
shake, shake, shake and shake again
to get the last damn drop out at any old,
dirty urinal and not in their old, long
past white, cotton underpants which their
wives probably wash and perhaps even still
iron.