I am of the opinion to blow up <br />All industry <br />Except for arcades and <br />Massage parlors, and to <br />Banish all <br />Semi-professional sport except for <br />What happens to occur on <br />Campus bowling alleys, <br />So that I might do this, <br />Flirtingly with the administration, <br />And invite her <br />To sit on my knee <br />At a steady gallop <br />For both of us to admire the <br />Scrimshaw lanes <br />Of oiled and buffeted teak; <br />To cheat off her crib sheet <br />She keeps stuffed in her brazier, <br />Her eyes overcast by flickering bangs, <br />To keep a look out for the cryptic, <br />Spanish skullduggery advertised by her abandoned gaze- <br />And to serve her green beers and hoers devour <br />Between her musketeer lips, <br />To mull over red liquorish and candy cigarettes <br />While it is storming outside, <br />To try and keep score while tilting her back <br />Trying to make sense of striking <br />And streaked vertigoes, <br />And count the tumbling pins, <br />Licking my thumb and smoothing <br />Her brow, <br />Shaking her loose <br />To let her ginger tresses tumble <br />Down across her dun-wheeled shoulders and her <br />Suprasternal nick, <br />To light our fuses in time with the thunder- <br />Wouldn’t that be a gas?<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/scrimshaw-lanes/
