The Linguist Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The heavy philologist is in the city,
Sharing eyes which chrome with god:
Each twitch is an entire sentence,
Each look a vociferous tomb-
Across from his dinner, the young
Women are now song birds,
Twittering joyfully,
Their sentences full of glee as they
Fan and comb themselves in the open air,
Metaphorically-
Each kiss of air siphons honey
Into their beings, a crematorium
Of great lakes, and when they stand
Up to walk away, their legs waterfalls
Of shaven and spasming flesh....
Meaning that they could run to him and
Envelop him with a giggling thought,
Entwined in their winged flesh,
If he were a younger man, he thinks,
With unperturbed humor,
As he forks another dreamy egg into a bite.