Marilyn Monroe, not me

Take her picture off and less light can I see
My own face replaced where an Icon should be
My mother the Truth stands behind with a plea
Speak this, my son, ‘Marilyn Monroe, not me’

With the icon gone, there’s an image of me
My eyes, the eyes of God, peer back in 2-D
On a celestial window glinting with sheen
Instead of the eyes of the true beauty queen

Back and forth, the reflected face in lamplight
Of Arthur Miller, Japanese, at night
Stars in the eyes, I’m rocking, movement mocking
I sit still, a watching thrill, without talking.

It's DiMaggio with an eye for the girls
Watching madness unfurled in a mixed up world
Crowds of the mind follow every spit and twitch
Holding the pitcher aloft over his pitch

Marilyn Monroe, shrouded in her white sheets
Is betrayed, a friend's kiss enough to defeat
A rug present for the Kennedy’s to win?
We absquatulate and find thoughts to hide in

I’m Lemmon in drag, breaking another heel
While she floats over a street vent as the real deal
Curtis can stop trying to be Josephine
Replace her face where it should always have been

It is her place to breeze, with grace, calmly by
It was not me amidst the stars of the sky
I settle down to rest and sleep till I wake
My pillow’s her breast, not a legend, nor lake

She picks at my ice, steams up my glasses
Walks on air vents and smells of molasses
Now I remember, easily see why
Her face was amidst the stars of the sky

I start to whisper and I’m happy to see,
That it is Marilyn Monroe, and not me.