Tom Robbins, Is It You Who Knows How To Make Love Stay?

Tell Love you’re going to Sydney to hunt

the vicious king crab and if Love cries

out of fright a hook will go through your eye,

it will stay.  Tell Love you want to punt

lawn gnomes molded by moldy Play-doh.  Burn

the turf mannequins (careful not to ignite

pothole-dwelling gophers), sniff a pair of white

Nikes stolen off a giant’s toe; if you learn

grass smells like a concoction of peppermint

and homemade Roslyn egg-white omelets

in the shape of a trapezoid, it will stay.

If Love tells you it lost its famous lint

shaped like Barney and stole it from the Met,

Google Translator says, “Forever it will stay.”