The Places In Which We Were Found Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Bodies enraptured by the tendrils of coitus:
Both smoking and dewed,
Are impressed by the sounds and feelings passed
Like a life giving sea between two bays:
Their eyes are light houses atop their bodies, the stones
That move cushioned in the night,
While the traffic passes by them unstoppable,
Bringing back and forth other lovers to and from their homeless
Graveyards, swinging them through the tragedies of a metamorphosis
That gives this sweet condition one last reason to come around,
While the lions roar like rivers like buses taking us open-mouthed
Back home again to see once more the places in which we were found.