Either Way Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Cinderella smells like beer after she’s
Done with all the mice,
The lab experiments of pitter-patter:
They’ve pockmarked their feet all over her,
And smeared their cheddar and now she’s
Passed out and handcuffed in the
Weeds beneath the monorail,
And the cardboard moon is lilting, floating upon its
Track of would-be espionage;
And all the tourists with their careless balloons
Are returning to where they hope they parked their
Cars;
And this is where she left me, and went off to reassemble
For her husband,
But I think I’ve stumbled upon something significantly more
Beautiful,
Because she is just there one breast over spilling caracoled
With the track marks of overturned carriages,
Her heart now as quieting as race horses given in finally to
Mightier rivers;
Or I might be all alone in a park after hours,
And she is just a shadow of an overweight bone;
But it is just as well,
As either way she is my beautiful.