The Seashore That Fit Her Abscense Perfectly Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Mammals shrouded by palm trees;
And all around me the sounds of mammals making
Love in brilliant cages,
Contained by the rotoscoping of religious caracoles;
Isn’t this not unlike the amalgam of penny candy
And fireworks,
And the days in sweet spring when I ran away
With Jordan,
And we touched ourselves in the sepia bled off of
Glaciers as we watched the heroic
Pilots crashing by themselves,
Making bonfires for us which kept us alive
Until Friday when
The simulacrum was hard at work, needing his pubescent
Pen in a hurdy-gurdy of circle-jerk;
All the things the teachers had taught him,
The dancing chicken getting rewarded at the bottom of the
Ski-lift,
Making fast and easy passes of love; and she was smelling
Like the very forbidden fruit,
But it was just a cheap knockoff, underneath the overpass
Which wasn’t even in Spain;
And somewhere nearby Sharon was a very beautiful
Woman,
Legs as long and trustworthy as one of those sweet copper
Cannons, and the skies were kind of all lonely and
Leporine around the spot where I would have expected
Her to be;
But she just wasn’t there, and I couldn’t act for her anymore,
And still I was glad I had come,
Since the stages of the seashore fit her absence perfectly,
And I really felt as if I belonged.