not typically a fan of sappy poetry, but...

Romantic Moment

By Tony Hoagland, from Speakeasy

After the nature documentary we walked down Canyon Road,
onto the plaza of art galleries and high end clothing stores.

where the mock orange is fragrant in the summer night
and the pale adobe walls glow fleshlike in the dusk.

It is just our second date, and we sit down on a rock,
holding hands, not looking at each other,

and if I were a bull penguin right now I would lean over
and vomit softly into the mouth of my beloved

and if I were a peacock I'd flex my gluteal muscles to
erect and spread the quills of my cinemax tail.

If she were a female walkingstick bug she might
insert her hypodermic proboscis delicately into my neck skin

and inject me with a rich hormonal sedative
before attaching her egg sac to my thoracic undercarriage,

and if I were a young chimpanzee I would break off a nearby tree limb and smash all the windows in the plaza jewelry stores.

And if she were a Brazilian leopard frog she would wrap her impressive tongue three times around my right thigh and

pummel me lightly against the surface of our pond
and I would know her feelings were sincere.

Instead we stand awhile in silence, until
she remarks that in the relative context of tortoises and iguanas,

human males seem to be actually rather expressive.
And I say that female crocodiles don't really receive

enough credit for their gentleness.
Then she suggests that it is time for us to go

to get some ice cream cones and eat them.