Weeping Naked With My Unfortunate Eyes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

There is a transom in her eyes
They see at more degrees that an alligator
Who saw me leaving school
Before denouement;
And I have return to her many times,
Underneath the penumbra of the moony skies;
And I have returned to her and drunken alone,
Until my rucksacks were empty of
My father’s fireworks,
And I was done with my soda,
And with my jerks;
So I imagined her there above the busty head
Of a gray wolverine,
Shooting like streamers of pure crinoline:
She had her busts turned into twin engines jugging
Gas,
And Jack was planting his beanstalk under her
Belly:
She was almost waiting for him,
With that promiscuous glint in her eye,
Her black fields almost green, while I knew
I could never really be entirely enough for her,
Because she had so many stewardesses serving drinks
Between the wingspan of her opulent thighs:
She had so many things changed inside of her,
That she was never more perfectly in disguise,
While I looked forever up at her,
Weeping naked with my unfortunate eyes.