Christian Truth Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Whose c*ck do you go sucking now? :
I do not care,
I give you mine
To delay on until I get you there:
I can not stop you from playing in your
Nursery rhymes:
Your bare-ass exploited like a rental car:
You are as confused as a dislocated kine,
But I will find you in the end,
I swear:
And ride you like a bucolic Ferris-wheel:
If you bleat, I will mention the stars
To distract you while we reproduce.
Alongside the highway,
There are many neat men going by,
And they might try to net you in a business-suited
Deal which sounds too good not to,
But don’t:
Because I am still here,
Doing my best cursive to get you to strip:
My smile is never insincere,
Even if I am unreliable, I know your zip code,
And I will never apply to law school,
Even if I am as lonely as my friends who do:
I will get you in the end,
Because it is the best conclusion:
Like two unrequited lovers who seem to drink poison,
The clichéd Shakespearian tragedy,
Only to wake up healthy for Christmas
Surrounded by their children:
This is Christian truth,
And I will undress you there
Beneath the garlanded tree on four legs,
In a house without a mortgage:
I will take you ever time,
Like a cultivated garden:
All you have to do is believe,
And I will trough you like a reawakened army:
You will put your head in that pillow
And cry my name,
And I will supplant this poem inside you,
And reawaken the names of our children
In all the fine rows:
And you will smile in the morning
For real and for the first time.