Quixotic Poem by Robert Rorabeck

It cost me a dollar to read Don Quixote,
But the look in her eyes as she put out the sharks
Was worth it.
And the sea was the teal of a tennis court,
Where you could almost see the short-skirted gods
Herding the red deer up the steep jaw of the
Albino Titans;
All of that was extinct, and the oil rig was a
Farting hermit squatting on the pot of the sea,
But it was a cheap show anyways,
And when the curtains began to close in that smoky
Dance hall, I saw her for the last time, taking
Her bosomy bows, the grizzled men crunching cigars
And clapping on their legs,
Moting dusts into the searing candle flames;
As she disappeared in the folds of claret satin,
I was almost sure I could see the rim of areola,
Like a rutty shelf, and the bite marks from
The wolf young suckled on her potent milks-
Those who had founded Rome.