Friday, December 12, 2008

Kilmer 2008: Dishonorable Mention

Tay-Sacks Fifth Avenue
by Robyn Schneider, BC '08.5

Sarah Cohen was thirty-four, single, and ovulating,
As she strolled Manhattan's Fifth Avenue, her mind debating:
Surely there was a genetically perfect man out there, resigned to masturbating
Whom she could lure to her Pottery Barn boudoir for some copulating.

All the babies in strollers whispered siren songs to her loins--
She wished to shoot out a baby like a coin machine shoots out coins
Or a woman from New Jersey wished to dress to the "Noines"
Or a person driving to Des Moines wished to arrive in Des Moines.

There, across the street, walking a stately pommaschnoodle
A man with whose penis she might possible canoodle,
Cleft chin, detached earlobes, the whole kit and caboodle
In her mind's eye, their future child's face she began to doodle.

Her brain mulled over his possible recessive traits
Like a dishwasher's hands turn over dirty plates
Or a taxi passenger's eyes track meter rates
Or a guy who hates people obsesses over the people he hates.

Finally, she concluded their genes would react favorably
So she approached him and bent over his dog lovingly
As her pendulous breasts swayed and bobbed tantalizingly
And at last his phone number she entered into her Blackberry triumphantly.

They met up for drinks and she asked after his dog
And said all the right things because she'd Googled his blog
And it turned out they went to the same synagogue.
And she pondered the size of his circumsized log.

Once they were both sufficiently tipsy
She innocently inquired if he found her sexy
And assured him she was both adventurous and flexy
So off they went to her apartment on Sixty-third and Lex-y.

And just as they were getting down to do the deed
And her eyes gleamed gleamingly with the neediest of need,
Mr. Genetically Perfect got protective of his seed
When he saw how many baby name books she'd stacked on her bedside table to read.

"I know, Let's take it slow," he strategized.
"I'll make a pair of headphones from your inner thighs"
And this new development left Sarah surprised,
For she knew that precious egg would not be fertilized.

Instead of mother's milk, despair filled her breast.
There was no need for her to squat over a pregnancy test
Like a mother bird over an egg-filled nest.
Or a really weird person over a tube of crest.

Convincing herself that Mr. Genetically Perfect was probably gay,
And that his trip to the forest had been an unexciting foray
And that he hadn't been tall enough anyway,
She paid a visit to the sperm bank the following day.

But the visit left her solemnly bereaven,
Like a person who bet odd on Roulette when they should have bet even
For the Sperm bank, like its brothers Wachovia and Lehman
Had filed for bankruptcy and lack of semen.

So Sarah hung her head in concession
Her desire for a baby thwarted by the recession.
And thus followed a period of manic depression
Since adoption was clearly out of the question.

And now Sarah's ovulation has ceased
Her womb an apartment that can't be leased
No matter how much the rent is decreased
Well, she didn't have to abort a tay-sachs kid, at least.

1st Runner-Up
2nd Runner-Up
3rd Runner-Up
Other Dishonorable Mentions


Anonymous said...

this was good until the last line which was just distateful

Anonymous said...

... which, of course, is what makes the poem.