Sweet Commercials Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Soft peat where golden monkeys sleep-
So like little men, with little thoughts of men,
And young mothers drive around when
They cannot sleep;
And I cannot sleep, thinking of young mothers
Wanting to buy them bicycles and take them around
Then- see all the neighborhoods of young men:
Want to see by the young vermilion neighborhoods
That I would like to take her in,
To put her in-
And stop doing this- stop wandering off into traffic,
Stop pushing ghostly and indigo trams,
Or looking for girls cut into narrow gauge railroads
In the deep wounded wildflower basins between mount-
Ains-
Want to reciprocate more truthfully with her,
Wanting nothing but to work like a dog then for her,
And end up waking up looking into her far off eyes-
Everything on her wonderful and healing,
Beginning to sound like water un crystallizing,
And kiss and suckle her flesh and begin to really know her
Flesh,
The way our children should know it as well,
After school in rain showers before dinner, and during
Sweet commercials.