Dorothy Parker

Indian Summer
In youth, it was a way I had
To do my best to please
And change, with every passing lad
To suit his theories.

But now I know the things I know,
And do the things I do,
And if you do not like me so,
To hell, my love, with you!


Prophetic Soul
Because your eyes are slant and and low,
Because your hair is sweet to touch,
My heart is high again; but oh,
I doubt if this will get me much.


Resume
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs can cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

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