The Lions Roar And The Waterfalls Tumble Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The glass is under the chair
Outside of the little house where my mother
Does wash,
Or keeps the books:
I don’t want her to know that I’ve
Been drinking
Scottish whiskey or thinking of Sharon,
My sick muse
Out amongst the Palmettos.
Now I’m all warm and want to buy a
Foreclosed house;
And I am almost beautiful,
Not enough to make money as Prince Charming,
But enough to be Mickey Mouse,
And I love you,
And I love you and the night tumbles until it
Is dry,
And I awaken all cleaned and sober
With a full set of teeth and a wired jaw;
And Nicky lives somewhere very close
Saving all of her turtles,
But she wont come and visit me-
And the day leaps up pouring out of its mounds all
Of this traffic,
And even deeply recessed we buy and sell,
While I jerk off in a quiet well endowed symphony
To you- It doesn’t take me much time,
And I am immortal and ready for a Chinese buffet;
But I don’t want to penetrate you enough
To steal your cut flowers.
I just want to hold your hand and look your soul in
The eye
As the lions roar
And the waterfalls tumble.