Laughing At Home Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Laughing at the monuments—what does it mean to be
Here—in the afternoon,
Sweating as my wife lactates over another child
With nothing ever sold:
Muse up in Ocala with the horses—where she deserts herself,
Thinking of her children and prom queens
And race horses—
And ways to get off the low swings:
I know I will give up all that I have for the girl that I love:
Forgetting about the places that are between us:
Giving up everything for nothing,
Except she cannot unhinge from her spouse: her fate:
She will have other children—
As the hallways will fill up tomorrow—and she will go
Home laughing,
And echo over the monuments
With nothing else to live for.