Stewardess-Trapeze Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Good words on hikes,
On mountains that will never see,
And storm clouds above the poet’s reach:
Give me naiads tag teaming on country
Bicycles,
And a wife that is telescopic, who can be
Folded up in case,
And Billy the Kid hidden in a thousand lakes,
A thousand tears of sympathetic Indians:
Give me smooth stones to
Sell,
Or pretend to tell fortunes with,
Like used cars:
Give me a habit of spikenard and a plane ticket
To Spain-
Give me a decade of a worm hole,
And my life back again, better explained-
Declassify me as sad,
And the most diminutive of planets,
And a female body soft, wreathing juxtaposed
To my own body,
The coitus of the rapids, the snake and the hare
Doing battle in the rock garden….
I don’t care: Give me one lock of her hair
And the keys to your car, daddy,
So I can go out hunting daydreams, on the warpath
Around the parking lots and movie theatres,
Picking my canine teeth,
Hungry with something vixen with long shaved
Stewardess-trapeze legs to eat.