Odes to Celebrities by Paul & Bob


Imagine a legendary laundress

who washed gingham dresses

into strapless silks.

Lucille Le Seur a Chicago hoofer

became a 20’s flapper

rivaling Clara Bow.

Her breaths and stares weakened

the knees of celluloid moguls.

The jazz baby flung

her debutante soul

onto beds of devilish MGM bosses.

After being promised the role of Camille,

which instead went to Greta,

they delegated her to Sadie Thompson

in Rain– a box office flop.

When she spiked directors with her heels,

she was “box-office poison.”

Predatory men loathed her,

but packaged her mass appeal, providing

their limos, mansions, and Tahiti cruises.

Mink, murder, mayhem & melodrama

spirited her from 30’s to the 50’s.

She was always a bit obvious,

a shade vulgar, a bitch goddess

with a dagger stashed in her purse,

her sharp lips forever slashing.

In jet-black ankle-strapped heels,

Joan clacked up many silver stairs.

This once Charleston-dancer finally

waltzed into arms of a Pepsi billionaire.

After his death, she sat at the head

of his round table, infinite floors up,

with a “No one fucks with” glare.

A chameleon in drag– a basilisk,

King Arthur in petticoats.


She died of a severed heart

with a broken Pepsi bottle in one hand,

a stiletto in the other.

Forty years late her Sadie was praised.

by Paul