Oh, don’t mind me. I come from a time
When new issues of Playboy magazine
Sold out in one day, when the windows
Of coffee shops on Broadway were piled
High with Playboys at eight o’clock in
The morning and by early afternoon
Not one Playboy was anywhere to be had.
I also lived to see the day when Playboy
Was the kiss of death for any enterprise
Foolish enough to display the rabbit while
A million sodden cab drivers had rabbits
Hanging from their vehicles’ mirrors
And then of course Guccione appeared
With his willingness to show pubic hair.
