Unimposed By Prose Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Nothing sad tonight, nothing poisoned
By the maudlin treacle of a rummy rose.
Tonight I’ll be a sober gentleman far out and
Alone in the mowed field underneath the halogens
Where the cars stream by, frosty eyed
Like the expeditious cavalry of our nations industrial
Complex, swimming to and from beds of
Business, beds of sex, and the entire cavalcade of
Glossy housewives whipping eggs in matching kitchenettes-
No more slurred and stuttered dictions,
But like a man bedecked for his sister’s wedding,
Cleaning shaved, possibly young enveloped by the clingy
Night, enwrapped by the frothy hustle of waves and
Clouds, the bodies turning imperiously even while
Esteem scientists begin to fade,
Darker shadowed by the whisking trees, and the soft
Singing bees all curled up for the night, sleeping in their
Waxy combs, a gemmy corsage hanging at his breast like
A valediction, his rank and stature not imposed.
Tonight, should the crowds come all of a sudden, each line
Will be ready to maneuver straight and clear footed from one
To the next, like the tightrope artist walking above the
Cerulean heads of timeless ghosts of some Grecian fort,
Weaponless but unafraid,
Looking up and going effortlessly and surefooted as the
Fireworks bloom far beneath the unapproachable constellations
He cannot name,
And the warm exhalations of the streamline and fertile lover
Kisses his neck as she would for anyone she doesn’t know.