Dixon was a good tipper
with a gin and tonic
she’d wash down her dinner
Well turned out
You could tell she was a looker
back in the day.
 
Her black turtle neck contrasted
her white hair and white skin
her pale blue eyes and red lipstick
Her figure  on the right side of thin
 
Looking up from her sea bass
while poking the mash
She told me she’d just come from mass
her friend had died, he was 85
 
She said that’s what happens to us all
In her southern drawl
I am the last to linger on
So my dear you must have a ball
Before you know it your only
confidant is a waitress whose name
you can never recall
What is your name again?