The Heart Of Me Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Ants and sand lions making love:
Her areolas uncapped are sand-dollars too,
The arenas for these little b$asards
Or the custard cages of the abdomens of their
Stingingly insouciant zoo:
And they battle on her twin pinknesses;
And they tickle her like two virgins,
Like quarters for pop bottles or ice-cream:
The sun comes up like a truck making a delivery,
And I’ve shot my mouth off again,
Want to say her name, broken like a starfish under
The Mandela of softly repeating muses,
Shoreline of auburn hair, in a horizon of blondes-
Erin cheers up for reveliere, says I’m shooting blanks,
Knocks sweet farts atop her terrapin until
The enemy submarine sinks; and the sea is calmed,
As I am calmed, and housed, baked in a kiln or a
Phalanx of aphrodisiac sunbeams,
Put out on the lawn like a marble faun and made to watch
Over Sharon when she was just young
While Kelly French-kisses me and Diana comes,
Forgetful of Jove, her husband lost in the cocaine jungles of
Columbia-
She is driving her truck fast through the middle class tributaries
Of my sandbox suburbia;
And she flirts with me while I pick out my deserts;
And now I have named those muses who are dividing like
Shell-fish inside of me, like a whip cream army,
Topping the juicy pies, leggy and flashing, four girls
Waving like perfumed flags of piece and justice
Deep in the salt watery atolls which pump through
The heart of me.