Impenetrable Shade Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Something dark is breathing outside my tent:
He is as big as a house- he is a wino with a scythe-
He is the pestilent horse of death;
And I am not afraid,
Because he knows what I am doing for him,
That I have mowed his field for him,
And will soon be selling all his laughing children orange
And flickering like kerosene lamps lit by barmaids
In the prehistoric Caribbean;
And he wants me to get laid- and maybe I will,
Underneath the teal copper cannons in some semi permeable
Esplanade;
And afterwards I will lick my fingers by which all my tricks
Were laid,
And we will laugh together and I will happen finally into sleep
Above ground and yet deep, deep in his
Impenetrable shade.