Strange Buoyancy Of Their Artificial World - Poem by Robert Rorabeck
Echoing and echoing until Christmas comes
And the housewives recline in their living rooms,
And the sailors come on home
After hand feeding the dolphins in the immensity of
And, after it seems all of my beautiful words have been
Someone else forgives me, and the wimples of
Stewardesses lay across my body,
Serving me from the challises of their armpits and
In the strange buoyancy of their artificial world-
In flashy lures which tantalize the gods above the clouds.
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