So you cried that you’d said <br />You’d thought that I’d been untrue: <br />Well, <br />Maybe your eyes were the overpowering <br />In the venal pestilence of aphrodisiacs <br />Of armpits, <br />And now I can hardly move: <br />And I’ve finished the bottle, and I’m breaking out <br />While the traffic moves; <br />And you are the soft, nose-pierced <br />Hypocrite with brown <br />Flowing eyes: <br />Who are you, with brown flowing eyes <br />But a woman for every man, <br />And I cannot move: and I refuse to move for <br />Just anyone, and you are you but just <br />Anyone, <br />While the traffic flows, <br />And I wait while the tied, ever ready, <br />Surceases.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/surceases/
