For Lovers In A Feathery Rain Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I want a Mexican wife:
I want to trick my white wife, and all the things she would
Have wanted from me,
To fill her condominium with the affluence of my sweat:
Now my introversion and dysfunctions may finally have done
Me some good:
To see beauty for real every day slipping out of her clothes
Across the canal,
Haloed by the repercussions of helicopters, striped by airplanes
And the reflections of school buses in the middle of a
Mirage miles and miles away;
Here they turn out better than anything that can be bought and put into
A home,
They clean up better than boys who hold your love in the seconds
Of crepuscule,
As we all leave each other and the things we’ve procured,
And go into the divinity of the body’s infinite sink hole, and there
See for real the things that we have
Collected,
That are spoken in the lubrications of an unconscious mouth;
And my wife is there baking in smoke
Her skin as delightful as a baseball diamond; and her children with her
Who I will collect with her like the echoing
Laughter of a Ferris Wheel as it turns for lovers in a feathery rainstorm.