Child In Your Orchard Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I have proven that the world is my dream,
But my dream is my death,
And I don’t even have money to spend at the racetrack;
And I can still hear the traffic and your name,
As he lights into you under Pike’s Peak,
As he gives you the juice to turn on all the scientists;
And what were you thinking:
That it was just your time to become a mother,
Or that common fairytale they serve almost everyday
In lunch rooms all across the country-
And now the world is bespoken, it is being talked to;
My dogs can understand more of it than I can.
I get nervous in restaurants. I am afraid of things that
I appreciate; Like death, I wait for you,
But unlike him, you should not come- The moon is runny
Like yoke,
Like a chariot of reindeer,
And now I have thoroughly deceived myself;
And very soon you will have another child in your orchard
That has no business being named after myself.