I can tell now that everything is fine, <br />Because you’ve left the porch light on while you’ve <br />Stooped that sweet youngish boy, <br />While I was out jogging the golf course pretending I could <br />Be a major professor; <br />Or out breathless upon the steeper slopes of scree, <br />While he was under your cottage cheese blouse, fumbling <br />With pink fingernails of the presents of your crenulated <br />Flesh; <br />And I had to take my car to the carwash, and then for a checkup, <br />As the tortoises stared at me dull-eyed, hiccupped: <br />I bought you a plush green teddy bear once for Valentines day: <br />Do you still have him in some corner of your newly <br />Cornered house behind the gate of your fabricated community- <br />This isn’t something I think much about: <br />I stomp my boots- I zigheil, which is easy to do from Pluto <br />Without being lampshaded by all your anonymous ancestors: <br />Look girl, <br />I actually made it further in school than you, and that’s because <br />In evening my phallus expels and greedily eats all the best orchids <br />Laid out as offerings by all the under-aged girls; <br />And even scarred, you were no competition, and I would not <br />Wear your ring: You rode your bicycle while I jogged, <br />And it was an easy thing: Other girls looked through the Venetian blinds <br />While I masturbated- It was no special thing, <br />And even now I think of swimming away; I wait to hear from <br />Some literary agent as I ejaculate, as I spume, <br />And the airships trundle in herds across the unbanished skies: <br />And the football players throw their games, <br />And I am the ever constant alligator eating the blue gills in the canal <br />Behind your house waiting for you to bare your inevitable <br />Children: I am he who should never, ever cry.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/he-who-should-never-ever-cry/
