Between Her Overprised Pretzels And Cheap Bananas Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I look like white Tennessee with
These scars on my face:
It’s great, and it’s gory: somehow through the
Appalachian gin fields the prettiest girl
These breathy atmospheres,
The punk idea of torrential butterflies thriving
Around in the constant migrations of her
Refrigerated dinner truck:
You could store bodies in her back seat:
And that is where I want to go when I die,
To be cut up in choices of cheap and worrisome meat,
To be tinkered through her caracoles through the
Bad parts of the neighborhood
Where there are very few white families left,
So that my eyes can stare at her sweet culito in pink
Sweat pants:
This Diana giving new definitions the functionality of
Female beauty;
She says with her eyes that she loves me,
For she stares at me for some time, and I always drink
Her chocolate milk even through heavy bouts of influenza;
It’s like beating my head against a warhead-
This luscious Amazon: I have no greater wish than to be
Parceled out on her delicious slab and sold
Between her overpriced pretzels and cheap bananas.