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COSMOPOLITANS AT THE PARADISE
Cosmopolitans at the Paradise.
Heavenly Kelly's cosmopolitans make the sun rise.
They make the sun rise in my blood.
Under the stars in my brow.
Tonight a perfect cosmopolitan sets sail for paradise.
Johnny's cosmopolitans start the countdown on the launch pad.
My Paradise is a diner. Nothing could be finer.
There was a lovely man in this town named Harry Diner.
Lighter than zero
Gravity, a rinse of lift, the cosmopolitan cocktail
They mix here at the Paradise is the best
In the United States - pink as a flamingo and life-announcing
As a leaping salmon. The space suit I will squeeze into arrives
In a martini glass.
Poured from a chilled silver shaker beaded with frost sweat.
Finally I go
Back to where the only place to go is far.
Ahab on the launch pad - I'm the roar
Wearing a wild blazer, black stripes and red,
And a yarmulke with a propeller on my missile head.
There she blows! Row harder, my hearties! -
My United Nations of liftoff!
I targeted the great white whale black hole.
On impact I burst into stars.
I am the caliph of paradise,
Hip-deep in a waterbed of wives.
I am the Ducati of desire,
144.1 horsepower at the rear wheel.
Nights and days, black stripes and red,
I orbit Sag Harbor and the big blue ball.
I pursue Moby-Dick to the end of the book.
I raise the pink flamingos to my lips and drink.
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