James Bond and the Demimonde by Elliot Wilner

James Bond and the Demimonde

After a yearlong, tedious hiatus

Cruelly wreaked on all of us

By a novel, evil coronavirus,

Our hardy group of men –

The same six elders as before –

Has assembled once more,

On a frosty Tuesday morn,

To renew our weekly breakfast

Date at the cozy Black Cat Café.

We have all survived the virus,

But now we pause to lament

The heroes who have, alas,

Passed on since last we met.

Lifting our coffee cups high,

We pay homage to our guy,

The recently departed Sean –

Sir Sean, if you please – Connery,

That venerable paragon of venery,

Who lives on in our memory

And who will be for all eternity

The original and inimitable

James Bond, Agent 007.

Inimitable he was, yes,

Too soon gone to eternal rest,

But we, his devoted minions,

Are inspired to reimagine

Our revered hero revivified…

From the world of dark matter

James appears, to counsel us on

The subject of breakfast etiquette:

Offer a crumpet to a strumpet

And she’ll sext your sextet

To facilitate a tete a tete

Or better yet a tit for tat --

A man’s a man for a that.

Thanks, James, you’re one of a kind,

And we’ll keep your advice in mind.

Now, as we tarry at our table,

We conjure a dramatic scene

From a James Bond movie

That never was but should have been,

A story true to the Ian Fleming genre

--Mystically revealed to us initiates--

Of James’s post-Goldfinger dalliance

With the ultimate femme fatale,

The nonpareil Mlle. Poussy Galore.

We recognize that Agent 007

After serial cinematic liaisons

With numerous courtesans,

Felt compelled to seek out Poussy,

His true soulmate and sole inamorata.

At last, James tracked his paramour

To the shores of the Cote d’Azur

(For Poussy a place of great allure)

Whither she had retired to savor

A life of leisure and endless pleasure.

James and Poussy ardently embraced

And enjoyed a long, loverly colloquy

Over several drinks of Grand Marnier

At a swell café in St. Tropez.

Bonjour mon coeur, Poussy purred,

I hope you’ve foresworn la gloire

And those bloody days of yore…

Let me hear you say ‘nevermore.’

So implored the much adored

Mademoiselle Poussy Galore,

Who then made James an offer:

Tu connais bien sur

Qu’ici toujours l’amour;

Reste quelque heures

Dans mon joli boudoir,

Accepte mes faveurs…

Et puis, je dirai bonsoir.

So, James Bond and Poussy Galore

Consumed the remaining liqueur

And in short order with great ardor

Consummated their historic affaire.

Years later James would insist

When recalling this galorious tryst

That he – let no one be mistaken –

Had been stirred but never shaken.

He hurriedly bade the nonplussed

Poussy a fond farewell

And was at once on the trail

Of yet another mademoiselle…

To you, Sir Sean Connery, we say

May the Good Lord light your way,

And may you at last find a haven

In the polyamorous heaven

That’s reserved for Agent 007.

Amen.