Really Want To Come Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Traffic looks at me, slowed
Terrapin never dreaming of the canal they live
Back up next to,
Loving each others stink;
That the maggots save their lives,
When the girls want to come, they really want to
Come,
But they hardly ever want to-
They are just as populous as ghosts,
So if they are even here then they are heaven sent,
Or they are heaven absent;
And I have gray hair and I have quieted and am not
Going to the ballet,
But will hide out in the verdant landscapes for awhile
Missing my ear the ants and fishermen took away;
And the boats,
And the airplanes,
And the little boys laying beside me,
Making me smile as they are entangled like lovers with
Their auburn bicycles;
And in the end they will swish their heads and bow doggie
Style off stage,
But eventually I will give one of them my crown,
My first child of this solar system;
That eternal pain of maggots fibrous in the staunch rains,
And I will make at least one of these skirted
Brats
Really want to come.