Everyday Foreplay Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Everyday Foreplay



Going down again for my lonely song,
After the thunderheads have cracked like gems,
And showed their true bodies like the lit up
Thoraxes of lightning bugs, but....
When will I finally find my way from here,
And roar down from my mountain like a Comanche
In a Cadillac, a government apology,
My hair turquoise and feathered, my body fully stemmed,
For upon the highway I could be the long ejaculation,
The neon sign, an out of the ordinary invention
Conceived of Tesla’s self-imposed celibacy,
A fine gentleman shyly scribbling in the shadows, half fawned
By the hibiscus in the corner of the doctor’s office:
I went out of high school anonymous, while the
Gypsies danced in the rain in front of the duplex,
Selling key-chains, while letting their bosoms air for
All the lonely mothers turning their cars around,
Meeting their destinations, never turning their eye again
To the recluse in the Mohawk;
Back home again, their fingers and legs running the
Kitchen, their father-husband cracking farts on the divan,
How can they not think to see the verdant peel-away,
Making a left with their virginity toward the apoplectic sea,
To whom these few words skip down to worshiping,
The everyday foreplay sketching each caesura the moon encourages,
As in the roofless sky the clouds leap up blushing jubilantly
From every suburban window; Their curtains drawn,
They couldn’t see, as they sit at the table to pray and eat.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Brandi Guthrie 28 December 2011

Boy you're good. Kinda turned me on. Keep writing for sure.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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