IDEAL SITUATION

They said that lunch was for wimps but I like shrimps,
still a lot of people eating when last I had a glimpse;
one of Bardot's cats strolled by, then rolled on it's back,
the warmth of the sand reminded me there's nothing I lack.

Lewis had a place in Monaco, there was nowhere else to go,
since F1 racing, the tax haven was an ideal scenario,
no hurricanes, occasional forest fire, brown skin might perspire,
but white skin of Verstappen was dry, when changing a tyre.

I preferred to write rather than risk my life at 200mph,
as I cradled my pina colada with its swizzle stick flower;
there was a well endowed blonde at the end of the bar,
couldn't resist a smile, when I recalled my life as a star.

'Don't you get lonely?' Some wag inquired, no worries anymore,
you have to worry about something but that rationale is poor.