Passing Poem by Robert Rorabeck

We are passing now;
We don’t need
Guns;
We’re passing quick
Enough:
Our boys, and arrows,
And our squaws
All dancing in the
Buff;
We have no reason for
These laws;
We are passing quick
Enough,
Through the windmill of
The devil’s jaws:
As with Judas, Brutus,
And Cassius:
We go down nine blocks
On the bus,
No time for lawyers, wives,
Or trust:
Its our destination or bust:
We are all passing quick
Enough.