The Hazards of Being a Poet

I once wrote a misogynistic poem about a baby giraffe.
I haven’t been able to repeat that brilliance since.
I did write a Marxist poem about a meerkat though.

The masses shall overwhelm the few,
The lazy kings shall be dethroned!
Our claim to the Serengeti is renewed,
Unjust royal bloat forever bemoaned!

At home, leaning over the bathroom sink,
I'm sure that the gobs of toothpaste near the drain
represent a universal truth.
It’s a shame fluoride doesn’t rhyme with transcendental.

My professor is
quite adamant that Gilgamesh was homosexual,
but I’m staring at two emo kids pawing near the aisle.
I can’t decide if they’re in love
or just happy that they both have lip rings.

I’ve been single a long time,
and it’s time to start dating.
I walk into a coffee shop and smile
at the voluptuous girl with the dry wit.
"One of these days you might want to say hi to me,"
she says, her voice subtle as sex.
Does she dig me,
or just like the fact that I’m cute
and mostly harmless?

[2004]