Kazoo Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Her husband has the Hebrew alphabet on his
Knuckles;
At least some of it.
She sat next to me on the shoe polished table
Underneath the tent which was
Rejected by the ginger inspector today:
She sat next to my problem side
Holding her twenty ton six month old underneath
Her awesome breasts,
And told me she was completely over him
Was this bleach blonde trailer mom-
She was completely over him,
And here was my chance to turn her pumpkin into
Magic dust;
That I could lay her low and plant her in my mobile
Truck,
While the waves crisped like an orchestra of
Watery cutlery for the both of us; yeah, but I just smiled
Politely and never once looked into her
Yard chair eyes- I couldn’t even tell you the color of
Her eyes,
Her desperate Catholic day school eyes,
But if she came back again this other cheap tomorrow
Who knows what I might do-
But can’t you imagine such a daytime talk show
Zoo I’d sure to get a fist full of kosher knuckle sandwich
If I played that buxom, bleached and infected kazoo.