Like Zepplins
There she is like a seahorse attending bar-
Underneath the halogens of the football stadium like a
Lighthouse:
She trawls through the night laughing with her brown
Eyes, serving drinks to freshmen and
Poltergeists- while my wounds get out like zeppelins from
The rose bushes, and they pull themselves like
A red wagon across campus- the wind chimes of my
Girlfriend mutely perverse, and I sing to her
To the library and to the other places that I think do not
Want to let her in.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
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