Now the night moons itself while I have been
Counting perfect:
Maybe I am the perfect director for your divorce of
Numbers and coelacanth,
Because otherwise f%ck these birthday wishes that
You were supposed to mean to me,
While even my brother in law was taking it easy
Before his wedding to my sister above my head:
And oh my god, he is so perfectly more beautiful man me,
But he will never be the conductor of these things,
And you have four children, and I am so done:
I am laid out immaculate and awaiting the virgin Mary
To sing her most usual of usual songs to me:
Now you suck your sugar cane and sing your semi
Religious hymns to the religious that has seemed to have
So easily floated towards me:
And now I remember your bed or anything that has so
Unsteadily arranged itself towards me: You have lived
Such an exciting live, but now I am just the bright eyed
Ingénue in a bright eyed story and the theatre
Has gone but hello, Sharon, you are still the clear eyed
Mused clearing the acres necessary for my another
Wonderful story.
Robert Rorabeck
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wonderful-story/
