Place For My Shoulders Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I want a place for my shoulders—a home beside the carport,
And a Pieta when it rains and all of the horny toads come in from
The rain forests and congregate across the cinderblocks
That are painted blue—
And there is a statue there of my mother—or somewhere
Nearby, my father is setting up a tent and selling fireworks
Or he is selling Christmas trees—
Beneath the dinner table of those opulent pornographies,
We have already gone through so many extinctions—
Now time skips us across the sea, not knowing that we
Are just a baseball team out back of some innocuous high school—
And forgetting that she is already falling out of love
With a man she has a hard time remember,
Inaugurating the process that she will begin forever.