The Road That Hides Our Souls Poem by Robert Rorabeck

It feels no better, drinking the leaky poisons of
The serpents-
The fruiteria up the road as bright as a carnival where
I can no longer grow:
Beautiful things who are budding from her lips and
Breasts,
As she tells us all of the things that we want to hear just
So we don’t kill ourselves-
The livestock frolicking on, both real and make-believe,
The kinder ones sticking their heads out from
The cars and smiling, smiling
As they pass us on the road that hides our soul along its
Ways.