Campaign For My Scarlet Letter Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Campaign for my scarlet letter,
My love, my love, my dinosaur:
And I’ll come back and be your lover,
Your first crush, your index finger,
Your older brother:
And we’ll bask our heads into the evening’s
Pillows,
And dream of magnanimous plums,
And sugary super heroes: I’d love you for
The day, like a field trip,
Like a scar that goes away-
And while I’m doing this, you can shake your
Head and say I don’t know you,
And I’ll quiz you to make sure; and to see how
Well you do: You do so well at things that do
Not matter, and I am even worse than you,
Because before you left me I stole you bicycle and
Danced so the rains would fall so no one else could
Come out and steal it,
And then I caracoled your university because I like
That word especially when I can use it as a verb,
But by the time I was done reciting the sharks were
Busy just off shore,
And the ice-cream parlors had closed their doors,
The conquistadors had either crucified or Christened
All the poor dead Indians,
And the dog had masturbated onto the kitchen floor.
My mother whispered that she whished we’d
Been a little wiser, and then she shut the door,
And we closed our eyes and hit the pillows,
So far away broken up one into your expected migrations,
And I into an entirely different metamorphosis,
And yet dreams of you hit my pillow like a pile
Of cinderblocks,
A city full of busted bliss, a curse and a
Rhyme anonymous,
But I didn’t love you anymore.