The Last of the Towel Thieves

The Last of the Towel Thieves

Perhaps you have heard
The silent informed word
Hotels are striking back
At those of us who sack
Their wondrous soft towels
Theft makes them howl
They've inserted microchip seed
In the sleeve of the weave
They don't arrest, they detect
They add it to you bill elect
You get your trophy, honey
They get your money, funny!

My aunt Dot, Dotty, Dorothy
Was called by all you see
A variation of her name
She received extra fame
For her affairs and trysts
All the men she kissed
While maintaining in their lives
Close friendships with their wives
My mom was no beauty queen
But Dot was the best you've seen
She looked like a movie star
Ava Gardner or Heddy Lamar
Breasts like the mountains of Rio
Nipples that longed to be free-o
Legs made to be wrapped
You might say she was stacked
The men were entranced
They offered romance
When they wore no pants
What is the relevance?
We were the recipients of their eloquence
Taking place in hotels along the coast
Where she "fucked" the most
Pardon, an indelicate word
For a humming bird
Sex was as natural as a summer breeze
As pollen from the trees
Kisses and embraces
Sex in various places
In and around the cities
Her husband was not to be pitied
A self-made millionaire
Controlling, cheap, yet unaware
Occupied their home as a savior
With no knowledge of her behavior
She wasn't what you'd call a whore
Though she had presents by the score
That she'd return to the store
For the cash that they'd cost
Her pocket change easily lost
I had no understanding of her wild activities
Of her liasons around the cities
Thirty years down the road
Many trysts I too have sowed
I realize all the little bars of soap
named and wrapped
Had more significance then that
We were passed the towels to be used
I wasn't confused
I assumed all towels were emblazoned with hotel names
That all towels were the same
The Taft, Savoy, Royal, Craigmore
Newburg, Florentine, Hilton, Biltmore ...
She instructed us, the soap to grind
To make a detergent so fine
To wash the towels of sticky spots or flake
That their pre-post coitus use would make
When the hall closet was amply filled
With trophies of their thrills
We used the old towels for rags
That we kept in bags
For dusting and cleaning jags
Abruptly the soap and towels declined
Which was just fine
We had enough to start our own hotel
Dot's back gave her pain, she wasn't well
They operated on a suspected disk
But it proved far greater risk
The surgeon sewed her right back up
Too far gone he said to touch
We got the answer
Cancer
A woman in her prime, but fifty
We buried her outside the city
We the family and many strange men
Although we knew some of them
On an ivy covered hilltop plot
Just before they closed the casket lock
Perhaps I was a dope?
I placed a tiny washcloth and a bar of soap
Should she need it on the other side
I hoped