More Failed Love
She arranged her thighs as any woman would frolicked
With Farah Fawcett hair, or is it
I made my best pitch, she was
Over there by the coffee pots frolicking with
The 2 percent milk, I lollygagged on up next to her, careful with my two nostrils and being respectful and all, and I poured a coffee for myself next to her and I was about to say, “Does everyone tell you you look like Fawn Hall but are actually much better looking?” but I didn’t, having heaved my heart up
To my throat
And I was prepared to look at her giant lips when she
Looked my way, but look my way
She did not. Her buzzer was buzzing
And I am not dirty in the brain like
You for her bagel was ready, the buzzer said so.
I noticed she had no ring upon her finger and I was
Heartened like Zeus. I’ll tell her I’m
A schizophrenic Jesuit priest/mad poet, I thought
That always works with the girls, and I’ll ask her if she wants a resume
Like I did in my interview last week
In the Jack Bauer office where
The stern guy who looked severe and sexually unsatisfied said, sternly,
“We already have them.” Oh, my! I thought.
And she was off to munch and emulsify.
With that gone, me alone licking the from the dregs of last
Night’s fraternity party.
But the girl is bestial and I love her like
Zinc. We should get married in May or September and, like Orpheus, analyze the results.