Boca Raton Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Nothing ties me down:
I am loosed into the world.
Strangers come out of straw shacks
With used knifes
And say hello—
Single women I once sat next to
Are getting married,
As I continue digging deeper,
My hole.

The land is a planet of
Gargantuan size, I crash landed into:
Between me muder’s thighs—
My father is a golden Sheriff
Marching down the street—
Whistling, he struts and
His feet rattle ready warning….

There are rich females swimming
In the concreted watering holes their
Husbands dug for them.
Like fine yards, they are well owned,
Manicured, trimmed and blossoming….
Amarillo panthers

Fine yellow jackets,
Belly-fat, abdomens pulsing,
Circle around them,
The invisible instruments
The immaculate watchmen
Sleep in the webs of
The green lady palms

To this the sea shushes
As the traffic continues
As lines of hungry soldiers,
Silver-gilled mercenaries,
The carriages for the middle of
The line aliens
Imbibe imported gasolines

Proceeding across the land,
The ready suntanned herd:
Forages, the city’s latest generation,
Bulking at the slightest thing:
Herbivores, land-owners,
Hypocrites,

Exonerated murderers….