Burrowed Ground Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I am the king of remote control boats,
In my little unnatural habitat off to one side
Of the show-
Past he peanut-ed pacaderms, and the orthodontine
Lions:
Giving of my good side beside the unlucky carousel,
Like a teal mold,
Like something dashy and cheap from the other side
Of the earth:
And I have everything I might want to control
Stuck to my thumbs like a joystick;
And there are pleasure ships and destroyers and even
A real live
Fresh water otter I stole one evening while skipping
School from the bust of a housewife
In her aimless come and go;
And he squeal and cracks chirping farts with his favorite
Barbie up on deck,
Enjoying a thimble martini; and the housewives
And single mothers come in with their little boys,
Their important though permanent treasures-
With fingerprints on soda pop and ketchup;
And they put in their quarters to my sideshow,
While the lions roar and the wild horses bray and the
Fleas dance atop all of us,
And I conduct them, grinning sideways, my eyebrows
In a mad genius corkscrew and for
Their little while and their little ways they conduct their
Invisible crew through my giant bathtub,
And the elephants sound a primal revelry,
And the lions show their teeth,
While the great and long winded terrapins take their luscious
Orchids and little deeper into the shade of the
Burrowed ground.