Of A Pornographic Disney World Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I can say everything to this window,
But I do not have a wife to
Say it too:
In this playground I sleep barefooted in,
Just like any other Spaniard,
Listening to the sound of
Your voice from my
Blind house:
It sounds like an airplane or a storm
A long ways off;
It sounds like wolves who have
Lost their voice
But still drum hard-ons through the
Forest,
And I swear, I’ve even heard you
Crying out through the forest
For dragons,
Even as I was wondering off
Somewhere to die,
Even though I was not even sure
How badly I was wounded,
As the traffic passed above me like
The shooting stars of the unnatural heavens
Of a pornographic Disney World.