Promiscuous Cats Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Forgetting to relax and entertain,
I shoot right for the glass- On the wall,
The girl from that movie has turned away.
Yes, she is looking across to Spain.
I get a tattoo in Barcelona. We lose a guitar in
France, and I weep because I love her mother
Whose artwork is exhibited in Rome
And Japan-
The blurry sailboat cockleburs hanging from her
Sweaty underpants,
And a thousand of dots in a park of slurring holidays;
They might as well be constellations,
But one of them has the lips of beautiful clichés.
She says to put my fingers to them- she doesn’t
Speak. She is the nude in a giant wine glass in the
Fieldtrip I’ve stared at all week.
She has a husband distilling gin from the creak,
But he’s in love with a salmon colored fink;
I do pushups on the noisy floor- I draw my trees on
The desk,
She crosses over to me and turns the court blue,
And we eat our lunch beneath the tits of coconuts, the
Messy eyes of alligators who’ve caught diseases
From eating promiscuous cats.