Like Marmalade In The Shade Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Going home and crashing cherry red cars
Just like the verbs of puberty; while earlier that day there
Was math and Lincoln Douglas debate and really great
Girls who couldn’t care a lick for me:
And the bus came home like a faithful dog, but there
Was no telling who was in charge:
The cypress swayed like coy mistresses freckling their
Shade:
And my younger sister and I walked past the perverted doctor’s
House, and then we were chased by the dogs:
I thought of bare-a$s mermaids underneath the shallow bridge
In the slows of the canal where the otters play:
They have done nipping up the drops of coal-black persimmons
Stolen from the house-wife’s hard while she and her sister
Were sunbathing quite nudely:
And I told this all to Jordan or someone on the weekend, never
Even thinking of going to church, just squirting with rum
And the ululations of video games;
When I really wanted to be with his sister, that daughter who is
All grown up now;
But she has forgotten all about me; but I don’t know how when these
Bridges to those houses are all the same,
And you can take the walk out underneath the ceiling fan of pink
Cadavers really any old day- and there will be the same old
Otters in the green fires at play:
And somewhere down the street the housewife and her sister have
Stripped off from tennis are somewhere in the backyard;
And yes they are spread like marmalade in the shade.