The Hanging Men And Egrets Who Couldn'T Spell Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I would go and get laid tonight,
If I wasn’t too drunk & I am in love with you,
And all of this foreplay laid like chess pieces atop the
Sink holes in the limestone,
The emerald birdbaths in the body of Florida;
And I haven’t seen the violence of conquistadors in
A very long time,
But little girls are practicing on the swings to become
Stewardesses,
And eventually they will love you, mouthing off,
Oral-s$x of training wings:
They will orgasm all the way up to the Front Rang:
They will grow cherry blossom orchards all atop the
Collegiate peaks,
And your daughter will know a new world unbelievable
That I will sing to her,
As I sing to you into a coffin of repose we keep snuggly
In the carport in front of the orange groves;
Here is where I step back into a pornographic dream you
Never saw happen, while Mickey Mouse takes you
From behind,
And the billboards trumpet above the unlucky necks
Of all the hanging men and egrets who couldn’t spell.