I've been waiting for

"your name here" to walk in.
Welcome two thousand and one,
that's me, with a wave
of his jacket over a chair.
Pointing at the mic
with a smoking stick
he'd ask no one and everyone
"Who's up?"
I hope I've got ketchup pouring
or a salt shaker shaking
when "your name here" walks in.

I hate James Dean moments
without a cigarette lit.

That Carolina smoke
going like a train
we all dance with,
meeting in this crowded room.
I've been waiting for
"your name here" to walk in,
sit down, grab about
50 napkins and do his famous
cookie monster impression.
I hope I've got fireworks
or a noise maker going off
when "your name here"
walks in.

I hate James Dean moments
without a cigarette lit.