Surceases Poem by Robert Rorabeck

So you cried that you’d said
You’d thought that I’d been untrue:
Well,
Maybe your eyes were the overpowering
In the venal pestilence of aphrodisiacs
Of armpits,
And now I can hardly move:
And I’ve finished the bottle, and I’m breaking out
While the traffic moves;
And you are the soft, nose-pierced
Hypocrite with brown
Flowing eyes:
Who are you, with brown flowing eyes
But a woman for every man,
And I cannot move: and I refuse to move for
Just anyone, and you are you but just
Anyone,
While the traffic flows,
And I wait while the tied, ever ready,
Surceases.