“Whore-doors, is a double intender
You can eat it both ways if you like
Either with your hands or with a fork and knife”
He was so happy I could barely breathe
He thought their laughter was aimed at me
I hadn’t the heart to correct the pronunciation of his words
As this whole experience, to him, must be quite absurd
Yet when he said, “It’ll get better, so don’t get mad”
As the ruckus rose
Embarrassment for him, in me, grew
But there was nothing I could do
He was the celebrity
He was the reason for the night
If I corrected him on this stage
I’d be crueler than those who laugh
Thinking this is but an act.
