Queen Alice's Wheels Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Reposing without liquor,
I personify a street-deity where
The higher-grade angels are passing
Overhead with loud engines;
Unaware, other more flagrant bums
Are getting, and giving head in the park;
It is their only capitalization,
And once they’re gone enough they perceive
The lazing alligators as green-blooded
Mermaids stretched out on long, sinking
Driveways, eating Astroturf and looking
Fine enough to fiddle
As the sun spurts and spins like
Queen Alice’s Wheels; getting drunk,
The waves are less inhibited, and so they
Are coming in quite uninvited in a glistering
Calvary, but Sommeliers in Colorado couldn’t
Give a damn.