Out of the old habits of the moon,
I place myself with my dogs and start anew:
And we look over the rafters of each of our churches,
And down the sweet blouses of the Catholic girls inside
Putting on miracle plays and busting out the papier-mâché
Angel wings;
And we started out like this all together at the starting line;
And we were given roman candles and brown bags of store brand
Liquor by the state;
It was really swell as all the mariposas licked the armpits of
The apple orchards we all know so well:
And our dogs howled at the fornications of so many blimps
That they absolutely got in trouble;
And I named myself as the culprit and you the princess:
I bought lingerie for you on your birthday, but I would not
Buy you a new truck; and then the moon was full and yellow:
It was like Spanish bullion sinking insouciantly through a sea
Of clouds;
And I had to touch myself and mouth off to the English professor,
But I was so drunk by then that neither I nor my muse gave
Any sort of damn.
To The English Professor
Did you enjoy the the artible “To The English Professor” from Robert Rorabeck on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
Leave a Reply