Beauties Parade Through The Otherwise Lonesome Dreary Poem by Robert Rorabeck

This is what some ladies who are doctors
Diagnose me with,
The unearthly desire of a heavenly kiss;
And I fail them every time,
As pretend arrows knock me off my broom-
Stick horses- It isn’t getting better,
Fighting windmills as a matter of course-
Pretending I have x-ray vision,
I let the water overspill, so busy masticating
The bones of the surreal:
Even if I lost the contests of this earth,
I saw them all, the sorority in their beautiful
Girth, delinquent though Junoesque:
The waves could almost reach them, the spirits
Of the sea wished it so,
And it rained so hard that day, you couldn’t
Know: The alligators went on parade
And heroes started to show, dead comrades from
The easement with their dragon tooth-hoes;
I wanted to help each one up into bed,
Or lay them beside glistening middle-class pools
Where they would be easier staid,
But they got up themselves and went along their
Way,
And the storm went on teary-eyed and dreary,
Each marbled nebulous flashing its proposed
Rings to their derrières; the complexions of the gods
Started signaling, hoping to enrapture their somnolence,
But they just went straight home after school,
As was their way, and talked long and insulary to
Their boyfriends of a better fairie- For so was the
Way and nature of the beauties parade,
Strutting and busty through the otherwise
Lonesome dreary.