Jenny's My Angel
by Hezekiah Allen Taylor
Since grad school have I adored thee,
Before I knew your obsession with Tom Jones
Or that "Hello Kitty" hit some erogenous zone.
Robert Mitchum affects you oft, you worship he
Still, the demise of Twin Peaks elicits moans.
With you, the pop culture whirlwind is all I see,
And yet, such tidbits are not all that fills you.
You have such laziness of flesh, such power of mind
The two together such a glorious coup.
Through time and space and TV they intertwine
Weaving such a spell, I am resigned
To old age in a condo next to you.
I'll get the dog named Fred, you the cat.
Okay, I guess "Sergeant Frillypants" is a name overdue.
But that damn cat is living with you.
Perhaps this is not "love" as poets thought
But most of them are dead-long, long gone.
We can leave physical love for the peripheral
And keep the purity of our relationship aloft
With long nights of cable and naps on the futon.
Is it too much? Should others be sought
To fill in the every day, the general?
I think, instead, I like it this way:
You of the children's backpacks
And the monthly obsessions, who doth still wear
That horrid tee I bought you at the Goodwill.
If there is nothing else in this earthy sphere,
There is my adoration
Which continues to expand
And will guide us back to our sacred Graceland
When we're old and co-dependent
And even bitchier than we are now.
Silly, yet lovingly based on "Air and Angels"
by John Donne, the full text of which can be found at http://www.poets.org/poems/poems.cfm?prmID=2437.
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