The Conductor Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now the night moons itself while I have been
Counting perfect:
Maybe I am the perfect director for your divorce of
Numbers and coelacanth,
Because otherwise f%ck these birthday wishes that
You were supposed to mean to me,
While even my brother in law was taking it easy
Before his wedding to my sister above my head:
And oh my god, he is so perfectly more beautiful man me,
But he will never be the conductor of these things.