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Playing the Field (A Country-Western Waltz) By Gary Konas ____________________ Time for Monday Night Football, Snuggled up by the tube With your hot-handed jock Who’s a bit of a boob. But you don’t ask his IQ As you slip to the floor, It’s another great halftime, The two of you score. Tuesday night you get back From the art picture show, This guy loves Fellini, He worships Truffaut. Got a hint of a paunch And he sure ain’t no stallion, But you find yourself moanin’ In French and Italian. Wednesday—out countin’ heaven’s stars. Thursday—out hoppin’ seven bars. Just remember one thing ’Bout your lovemaking crew: While you’re playing the field, Hon, The field’s playing you. Friday night, out again With your phantom from work. He’s a senior V.P., It’s your fifth year as clerk. Well, he says it’s been fun, But the missus got wise. Gotta say adios now, He hates long goodbyes. Then it’s Saturday night And you’re chilling the wine, ’Cause your truck-driving sweetie Is due any time. Oh but six turns to eight, There you sit by the phone. Might as well pop the cork, girl, You’re dining alone. Sunday—looks like Chippendale’s packed. Monday—once again you get sacked. Time to wake up and see, Play the vamp or the shrew, While you’re sampling the field, babe, The field’s sampling you. Though they’re sending you signals, You’re ignoring the cue, While you’re playing the field, Hon, The field’s playing you.
____________________ Gary Konas holds a
Ph.D. in English, which leaves one hand free for writing. He once published a
story about a robotic Albert Einstein, unaware that it was science fiction. He
is an expert on musical theatre who has met his hero Stephen Sondheim, despite a
restraining order. He has shown his love of musicals by recording an album of
show tunes on a pipe organ; he has shown his ignorance of country music by
writing "Playing the Field." In his spare time, Gary collects great
wines, classic films, and mediocre student essays. |
(c) Defenestration Magazine, 2004