Chrysalis Of Bull-Sh-Tters Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Covered in the chrysalis of bull-sh-tters
I see how you smile to woo
What are you doing now but calling
In the same old weather fronts over
The used car lot,
The pennants are flapping
The gossiping of clucking throats—
Now everyone has one
And are being noticed, the beautifully
Needing eyes—
The lovely women in the glass vase
They taste like the sweetest things as they
Tease swimming with their tight legs
Over the unmowed grass and weeds;
And the trailer is fading on cinderblocks,
And no one here has been to school in
So long,
And go leaping in the trolling dusk,
Their adam’s apples bobbing the sweat
And bad skin of the truck stop’s colloquialisms,
And the women are so beautiful like little
Unschooled fairytales bighting the inside
Of their flushed cheeks all their unwashed children
Following them like ugly gosling the
Beautiful swan, their hands around the sticky
Things never quite bothering with
What they must become.