The Fleet Of Turpentine Heroes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The wishes I have of you are empty, all three of
Them, gossiping down by the better sea of
Bright cheap words;
And now it seems Mickey Mouse has something to
Say,
But he thinks better of it and shuts off,
Sways off to go drink around the orange groves
And helicopter pads of saint Augustine
Where I’ve killed my fair share of men,
Where I’m even now sneaking into houses where
I don’t belong, and going to sleep like a fairytale
Never described to the impressionable séances of children-
You can pet me down by the crocodile in my corner of the
Zoo, you can breathe on me your homeopathic spells,
If you thought I was worth it, if you could understand me
Better than the girls from Oregon:
For in my way I am already defeated. I no longer go to
The science museum for astronaut ice-cream. I got a C+
In logic, and I’ve been waiting for my chance to say that
All evening. My boats go back and forth on their lightbulbed
Pendulums at the season fair, where some girls die,
Like decapitated bouquets, but other ones seem to live forever,
Glowing like iron pyrite leggy in that midway,
I bight my lip for and draw my homeopathic blood, swing my arms
For trying to win prizes from the rigged games,
While the semi haulers are always driving up like thirsty
Honeybees- The corpulent hummingbirds hunting breakfast
Far after the race is over and the parking lot empty-
The girls are married, the rains are done,
And I am back at home on the green carpet masturbating like
Usual, watching Saturday morning cartoons
Dubbed in Spanish hoping that she’ll understand while I fold
Paper airplanes sealing the fleet of turpentine heroes with
Kisses I’d much rather have given to her.