Columbia College 1967, #19 [by Mitch Sisskind]

Columbia College 1967, #19
Michael Ganzer, Professor

If you want to write a love poem don’t say
Your girlfriend smells like a new car but
Maybe you could say, ‘I love you like I love
‘The smell of a new car that foretells many
‘Pleasurable and interesting possibilities
‘Whether it’s a long drive to Arizona or just
‘A quick spin to the seashore on a Sunday
‘I will always keep your top down because
‘You are my beautiful convertible, Julia,
‘Built for comfort and also built for speed.’
I used the name Julia because Robert Herrick
In the 17th Century was a master of this stuff
And he wrote a poem called ‘Upon Julia’s Clothes.’
Ha! Upon Julia’s Clothes! That’s so terrific!

Comments

[Kent Johnson]

Poem after Robert Herrick

If you want to write a goodbye poem to your 60s stalker,/
Who has a convertible and likes to pose with automatic guns,/
On big-time poetry sites, where women’s butts are featured,/
In living color, from the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue,/
Don’t just say, “You smell like a new car, and I hate that smell,/
Because it makes me think of the 60s, and all the creepy Maoists/
I dated.” Say, rather, “You smell like you really need a big-hung/
Boyfriend, one you can have sex with while you both wear only/
.357 Magnum holsters, strapped across your chests, like Secret Agents/
In movies from the 1960s, even 70s.” That will likely make Mr. Cad/
So mad, he’ll start reciting Robert Herrick to you at great velocity,/
Shouting as he half gets out of the car, while trying to climb back/
In, begging you, “Oh, please, display thy breasts, my love, to me,/
In this ’67 Chevy, and there let me behold that circummortal/
Purity; between whose glories, there my lips I’ll lay, ravished/
In that fair Via Lactea, for my sex is like a really big gun.” Just as/
You put your cool flare heel in his face, and he tumbles out, into/
The nighthawk glow of a White Castle, in the rosy, pubescent dawn.