I am your sadly resolute countryman <br />Erin, <br />Kept higher up on the taught purple hillside: <br />I have been tending the golden sheep <br />The heroes keep trying to barter from me <br />With locks of your hair. <br />And it is a shame that tomorrow I should have to <br />Go down into so much humorous swelter, <br />And traffic with those muscled tourists; <br />And I wont even be around, <br />Because I am not a model specimen, <br />And I will go through the day mostly dejected and <br />Past over, <br />Thinking about you, Erin- A specimen of Plato’s <br />Theology, <br />A red hot candy all f%cked up- And then I will be <br />Back up again, <br />High in my lonely bed, <br />Masturbating, trying to remember the few Easter Eggs <br />I thought I found in College; <br />But if you really loved me, <br />You’d lay off your extra-curricular tea-parties <br />And come and make love to me in my upper bunk, <br />Because I am not beautiful, <br />But I am honest and simple- Erin, <br />Don’t give up on trying to be <br />A good woman: <br />There are so many saddened colors to farm, <br />And our children would take after you, <br />And our sheep would shine back to the infantile moon <br />The tremulous swaying of our buxom love making <br />Far into the months of noon.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/into-the-months-of-noon/
