Robin Was A Girl
I knew right from the start
as I was watching from the flat silicon tube
that tapping lovers had been born
and that she loved him more and more,
but Robin was a girl.
Robin was a girl.
I fixed upon her lips.
I saw her taste them with a moist lingering lick,
a future tactile memory
as fingers stroked each lettered key,
but Robin was a girl.
Robin was a girl.
And she had visions of tumultuous romance,
it would be Wilde enough,
but on the other end of every 8 and x
I saw that life was tough.
I saw in Robin's face,
beyond the freckles and the wide emotional eyes,
an ache of solitude I feel
for better times and company.
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