Lonely Satin Dog Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Lonely satin dog
Gets out and howls,
Pretends the sky his by
Marking a fire hydrant- pretends that you
Really care to die by his words,
That the sea is his by pissing in the indigo soot
Of a fashionable puddle,
That his words are this by pissing out the ink;
And the icy centaurs shoot
And laugh above him and coat him with unbounded
Star stuff- things they don’t even have words
For,
And he never looks up to recount,
But howls and howls and finally goes to sleep,
Wishes he could stand up and get on swings to find you,
And to evolve into your bed that way:
But you are so far above him couched in a garden of
Otherworldly play,
And he finally gets the notion to fall asleep,
Or he just does after marking everything he can think of
Which might possibly give you to his lonely
Belonging.