Why in this cold globe <br />did you fire rockets <br />into my eyes? <br />you were not the destiny <br />I paid for <br />this was an ambush <br />and 1/3 of my life <br />has run like fetid <br />rivers through your legs <br />and down toilet drains <br />now I am suppose to say <br />hello to you, congenially, <br />as if you had never <br />bitten me, rabidly <br />like some foul marsupial <br />of my lower regions <br />instead, listen dear, <br />as I recall the war cry <br />of my ancestors <br />Rorabeck is German, <br />Remember. <br />and in 1945 I <br />was there adding the <br />coal to the cinders <br />that baked your <br />great aunt <br />and now my whip comes, <br />crack! <br />as I herd the black <br />angels through a pale gray <br />pain of sky— <br />and as you pass by, saying <br />your congenial hello— <br />I yell, “Schnell! Schnell! ” <br />and you revert back to the <br />naked beast I made you <br />and I ride you like some <br />Modern Major General <br />across planes of fire— <br />whipping you lavishly <br />for your niceties baked in insincerity, <br />your “Hello Robs” and <br />oh, P.S., I <br />love giving blow jobs <br />now that my jaw don’t crack. <br />but you are my pet now— <br />cause you remember <br />the mastery of my forbearers <br />so when I see you walking <br />next time on these <br />safe Florida streets <br />with these sororities herding <br />about you <br />with their beeping blow dryers— <br />“Schnell! Schnell! ” <br />I will cry, trumpeting <br />us into a new <br />wicked blackness.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rocket-launcher/
