End This Nonsense Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I weigh the same as a
Small planet.

Check to see if my hands
Are clean.

My mother’s name is Janet—
Dusty and cold,
With only a dog walking
Around me.

If today was your birthday,
I’d sing you a song;
I’ll sing you a song anyway

As I eat candy cars,
Because today I climbed
Molly’s Nipple—

And looking down I could
See all the way across the
World
Into your bedroom window,
As the breeze fluttered your
Curtains,

You were sleeping with him
On your naked bosom,
But you were so
Lonely, my eyes could
Tell,

The alphabet of my
Name was stuck to the
Red hinge of your lips,
Like buttered toffee,
My love,

I will fold myself up
In a paper ship,
And blow and blow
And blow,

To sail across sky and
Interstates and
Into your window
I will not wake you up,
But rest my head on
Your unoccupied breast,

I will whisper happy birthday
On your lips,
I will fall asleep.