The Anonymous Procession Of Such Undesirable Later Century Birthmarks Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Saboteurs make love at their parties,
Cheery and toasting, desiring the dress code of
Their bankrupt amusement parks, or holy lands-
I sit outside of their immaculately secular
Church, after they told me anyone marked could
Not participate at being king; and I mumble,
The most beautiful princesses died at two years
Old, and if I can’t get a library card, I’ll steal
The books I’m owed-
She said that I should proposition her parents for
A place to sleep, while she was courting
A nebulous freshman with a wonderful car;
I went to the beach and masturbated and fell asleep
In the desirous ochre where the transcendental
Tortoises were mating; They slipped and fell over
Me in slow motion and we lay in the dissolving footprints
Of professional volleyball players who’d been busy
Earlier that day practicing for the Olympics,
Sweating and signing autographs and kissing each other
Like the winds over the Isle of Lezbos;
And I dreamed of petit lawyers, and sommeliers and
Wedding planners, who were already married and even
Then like cocktail cherries being served in bed; and I slept
Homeless and broke into houses as was my need, and listened
To the rattling underbellies of overpasses as the gaseous
Kings went courting my old girlfriends; and if all that I
Had said in the twilight of suburbia outside the titillating
Slumber parties meant nothing, it didn’t matter as it
Was spent on the senses of nobody, and I hadn’t started
Drinking yet that day, or arcing my truancies over the treeless
Park across the thirty degrees the alligators perceived,
Telling them that Antarctica was once subtropical back in
The Paleolithic or whenever, so I was cheating nobody
By the anonymous procession of such undesirable
later century birthmarks.