How Dangerous It Is To Pretend Being In Love Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Ah God, the sun is real; isn’t it,
And it made the sky so blue and young;
And I don’t know any better words for it
Don’t I; and that is why you stabbed
Me on the spot,
And then christened the new highway
Where you commute to new boys with wings,
Where you killed the young heroes and stuffed
Them under your frilly things;
And you made it: the new sky, and the new sun,
And if I am not beautiful,
And if I have failed, and am destined to live alone,
It is because I haven’t recognized how beautiful
You are; and I haven’t said enough about you,
Or wounded myself enough over you-
Like a wounded animal, I am moving away,
And bleeding these words as I retreat, a chess piece
Doing as he is not allowed, watching you get married,
Making foreplay with a dangerous queen
Who is on the move,
Who is already holding up her own dresses and slipping
Through the mangroves;
She is killing her own tourisms and not asking
Permission from the boss;
And I am not doing my job, if you are not here fornicating
With me, but it is only a breathing game,
And it doesn’t matter if I Haven’t ever graduated from
High school if you aren’t playing with me,
Or realizing how dangerous it is to pretend being in love.