The Estuaries Of Common Happenstance Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Golden yards fawning in
Afternoons glittering in the filigree of daydreams,
And housewives finally swimming
Their,
Their toenails painted by the patina of the
Canals-
Oh, what a beautiful, suburban world- filled with
The truancies of little boys:
Their hearts leaping like goldfish coming to
The midways of the housewives
In their slumber less afternoons:
Can’t you see they are up
To no good:
They are parking cars outside of doctors
Offices,
And spending most of their time with themselves,
But it is a beautiful avoidance
In the estuaries of common happenstance
Where most of us are said to live.