Love Dolls Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I would like to plagiarize if it meant being
Perceived to worship a stronger god:
If it meant crawling between your legs,
And hyperventilating the oxygen of your planets;
If it meant watering the plants in the new room,
And being come on to by little girls all sweaty back
From their fieldtrips: I’ve tried so long to be
Original- I’ve waited outside your stoop and crooned
Until the morning broke open, bled and died,
And the trinity wilted before it could get to Sunday-
So I would steal to be your bride,
To make love, murder you through the threshold with
An audience, a laugh track, and a roller coaster.
I am not a good Catholic, and I’ve never taken communion,
But you are so beautiful; and I want you spinning inside
My bedroom, so I’ll pick the flowers the neighbors
Procreated; I’ll pinch from the mailman when my dogs
Are on his leg; and all my cars will be hot for you
Passing the presidents who aren’t real, speeding into the
Hemispheres where I can’t really survive, but it doesn’t
Matter: the flowers are plastic anyways.