A Play in One Act
A luxurious penthouse.
Should we wake him, Laurent? It’s nearly noon.
Leave him be and let snoring be his tune.
We can hope he falls into a coma.
On this planet, he’s a melanoma.
You take him too seriously, I’m afraid.
When all he does is get drunk and get laid.
I don’t care that he drinks himself blotto
While pretending to pray in a grotto.
It’s when he claims that his frivolities
Are the result of innate qualities
That I want to drag him from this gilded cage
And make him live on our pay, minimum wage.