What I look for in a partner isn’t much,
Just have a handle on your problems, Bub.
Admit that you don’t have a Midas touch,
And laugh about the times you’ve been a schlub.
Don’t blame others for miscalculations.
Accept my interest and encouragement,
But don’t expect financial donations.
And I won’t demand that you spend a cent.
Yet, I am forced to one futile demand,
That is pushy for a wrinkled old broad.
Despite M.S., I can’t offer my hand,
E’en tho’ the world finds me ugly and odd.
He must like my art and jokes in the end,
And most of all, he must be my damned friend.