(above, Michael Taylor and Randy Noojin as a very similar couple in my “Sit-Com” at the Fifth Estate Theatre, L.A., 1980.)
(GAY and FEY, two lovers, cleaning up after brunch.)
GAY: Leave the dishes? Let me read you a poem I wrote for you? (takes manuscript from pocket.)
All these brunches drive me batty.
Your brunch bunch is coy and catty,
but I bet you’d like this laddy
to learn to play their games.
(FEY: If you could!)
So I’ve studied the old film section
which seems to be their predilection,
and I present for your inspection
my mastery of movie names.
(FEY: Good boy! )
It’s Bett-e Davis but Bet Midler.
Bett-e did “Eve” and Bet was in “Fiddler.”
Bet got bigger as Bett-e got littler.
How’m I doin’ , coach?
It’s Rita Hayworth and Susan Hayward.
Both were redheads and both were wayward,
so which one’s better? What’s the gay word?
Butter me that brioche.
(FEY (Laughs): You fool!)
Both Kim Novak and Kim Stanley
and Kim Hunter were all manly (FEY: Bitchy-bitchy!)
but frankly, darling, they blend blandly
into a Kim-toned mass.
(FEY: Oh, dear!)
Maria Montez wore a turban. (FEY: Yes.)
The fat soprano was Deanna Durbin. (FEY: “Stout,” dear.)
Great Joan Crawford was always urban, (FEY: Good boy!)
and women named “Hepburn” have class.
Truman Capote had Errol Flynn.
Natasha Lytess had Mar-i-lyn.
Rock Hudson prob’ly had all the men
on the Universal Studios roster!
(FEY: One hopes ! )
Gina Lollobrigida was really bald.
Robert Taylor cooed when Tyrone Power called.
James Dean had a torture chamber installed.
Mae West was a male impostor.
(FEY: Just rumor!)
Greatest of all was Greta Garbo.
Greta wasn’t built like Adrienne Barbeau.
In fact, great Greta had a movie-star beau
prettier than she was.
(FEY: John Gilbert!)
Poor Lee Remick played in “The Omen.”
Sweet Jean Simmons was frequently Roman.
Tab Hunter starred in “That Kind of Woman,”
which rumor has it he was.
The brunette’s Cher. The blond’s Madonna.
They never dated, but they’re probably gonna.
Honey, baby, I don’t wanna
play this game no more.
(FEY: But you’re good!)
Who do you think the Colts are pickin’?
Think the Braves’ll take a lickin’?
Call me a clod or call me chicken,
call me names galore,
you don’t recall, Miss Lamour,
(FEY: Dear Dorothy!)
those are the names I got into this game for. (Bows)
like Marlon Brando playing Stanley,
so to keep your love I can leave
movie games behind.
(GAY: Please do!)
From now on, I live our love-life
in the solid real realm of life
and abandon the above life
of film frivolity
and faggy jollity,
if my man doesn’t mind!