Bicycles Stolen From Their Own Children Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Bicycles Stolen From Their Own Children



You sit down next to
Me and we
Watch the boys loading
Trucks-
They were half donkeys
Anyways-
And as the sun rose
Their ears
Grew-
Some of the dissapeared
With houswives
From view-
Lost mothers who insisted
Their freckles were
Birthmarks
But kissed them anyways-
And played hooky from work
And gave them
Bicycles
Stolen from their own children.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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