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[only rob]

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When I saw Thompson
approaching the lady giraffe
with a stepladder
I knew the first one didn't love
me anymore

so I tried to build pride
out of taxes and the time-clock
ground my fingers off
The square peg sought
circular sanctuary

but the gentle fingers of night
the stroke of clear currents
the distant breast of moon

coated the Cheshire cat
with menses and alternative wisdoms

The second wove doilies
from snapping electric cobwebs
to lay on paisley altars
on a world gone
terribly flat

so I mumbled poems into her

psalms of wonder and amniotic
waterfalls

but she bucked them off knowing
that this was not my first rodeo
knowing she could inflict nothing
I couldn't heal

I can just make out the third
in her black dress and heavens
in her eclipse and musty finery
but I learned a new word today
so she'll just have to wait

You can find that word
seventeen adventures east
three vaginas North
of the spot where your
red convertible metaphor
runs out of gas