Last Mojito, The

The Last Mojito Mr. Rotundo

80 THE LAST MOJITO Mr. Rotundo Mr. Rotundo believes Every meal is his last— Every drink a final drop— That he can’t get enough Of a good thing, And even if he could, It would taste better With just another serving. Mr. Rotundo refuses To save as much as a dime. He lives in a tiny place On the edge of Cemetery Park, And drives an old car Which barely makes it home From the loading dock Where he works each night. Mr. Rotundo dreams Of a day when all men Will not be judged By the color of their skin, But by something more meaningful; A grander fate, perhaps, The promise of prayer— And the perfect pastrami sandwich. Mr. Rotundo loves To look in the mirror And measure his worth By the size of his girth, Slowly rolling his large hands Across the wide expanse, Kneading the soft flesh No one else will touch. ...