Some Insignificant Feeling Just Above Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I went up to the university,
Sweaty and apoplexy and worked for hours in
A fast food supermarket:
And when I had time I smoked and watched the clouds
Deform
And my parents make love;
As I made love to a girl I did not love
In the movies as fat and as gross as the citrus
Of necrophilia tourism,
Rising their flags and listening to the mice scream:
The lions roared just as mutely as wind in the crevices of
Defeated explorers;
And then you know there is a forest as pure as the flowers
That have never been seen to have thought to been cut:
There is the world beyond the gardens of pornography planted
In the beds of junk heaped into their cars;
And these days are as swell as kindergarteners out
Almost seeming to masturbate on their lawns,
All sweaty and made to trust one another, regurgitating chicken
Noodle soup like nursery songs:
And even then there were girls I love, while I made gloves of
Earth in the palms of the woods;
While I follow the white dogs through the rattle snake coops,
Before all this joy I was touching myself;
And the historians can tell you the history of fireworks,
But it is just as good to know myself:
And I believe I have seen you out in those woods before I can
Even remember myself;
And now the earth is melting and coming off of its love,
As the friendly strangers find each other again and again in the
Rest stops and snow globes of this world,
Trying to perfect oral sex while that unperplexed god watches
Us as if a tourist enjoying his newly purchased snow globe
Some insignificant feet just above.