Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,025 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

So Amputated In The Black And White Of An Out Of Date Newspaper - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I can’t use a dime to call you anymore,
So I look at you red-eyed in photographs,
And your face looks like the tanned rainstorm of
A pretty girl’s misplaced secret desires.
Why are you so sad, Erin- Is it because you are
The last of your kind, and everyone else has failed
You. Aliens in their garden of hotdogs and baseball
Parks- Then you are like me, oh sad thing,
What a vermilion holocaust you give the dusk
When you stand out in your front yard flaunting like
A tenebrous ornament for the homeless black men,
Or whoever else comes around,
As the wayward misfits of your neighborhood are
Always courting the comfortable sound of your
But you don’t read me anymore, because last time
You thought of me, it was by a different name; and
I don’t know who you love even though seven years
Ago I used to jog around you hoping to soup up some
Kind of homeopathic love potion; and even again,
Later on in a month or two I might be selling things for
Holidays around your old neighborhood, but I wouldn’t
Think to call you, because you wouldn’t love me
How I look so amputated in the black and white of an
Out of date newspaper- My body is not for you, but
For the lips of a coffin which must disembark from my
Favorite canal at the edge of the smoking glades,
Though if you would come out for me then and cheer me
On with a few beers, and a chorus of chin chin,
It would make for a better ending to this sad young thing.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, September 3, 2009

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