In The Candy Graves Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In the candy graves of your mother's breast feeding
You will lie down,
And your eyes, yes your eyes, will close
From looking at too many birds;
The highways will encircle you,
For you yards and yards—
And it seems as if you have come so far,
But this is just the preamble to the flea market,
To the graveyard,
As the housewives return home,
Matriculating after the fourth of July,
And the sky feels alright even though it is full of
Clouds—and your super heroes cannot even save you
Even though they are so far away.