Welcome To Early Morning Preschool Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I am a fan of dying, of never learning French.
I plan on never leaving the cafeteria. I have eaten my gelatin
But I am so embarrassed- I started out fine,
The way you see things relaxing in runny amber;
Oh, in the balmy reasons in squinting hijinx farting
Quite happily under the swings-
I said my things to the escargot of sweet little girl’s ears,
Curling, curling like fun slides;
And my mother would hold my hand without reason,
And I’d make up excused for stealing things from my peers;
I’d stand there for some time supposing about the tin
Horns and copperheads at the pet cemetery,
While the buses encircled me like rattling cartoons-
Back at home, sweet death, grandmothers and goldfish,
An impure ghost in the corner behind the Christmas tree,
Erin Adamson- I’d play with my sisters; I’d kidnap them for a
Swell, and he’d pay me in penny candy,
But I was just doing my thing- I don’t imagine there is anything
More heinous than the misspelling of my anonymous crimes.
Conquistadors saluting consumptive mermaids in the sea
Under the clacking overpass with green copper cannons.
Tourists in restaurants and hotels like hypnotized chickens-
Let us sell them things to make up for what we’ve done,
And at night, down on the scabrous knee, implore god for his
Fealty, and his recommendations for how to make up
For what we’ve done.