The Mechanism Of Your Moving Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Lords of parks and football games,
The new girls think you sure are sweet.
Then comes lightning,
Then comes snow. Saints are struck down on their
Camel’s toe,
But I still liked you a lot: I dreamed in class when I
Should have signed the x,
That we invaded rare countries, and pine forests,
And got special gifts and lime disease:
Invention for you was as plebian as birds or clothes
In the wash:
The clouds came and called you boss.
The words came next like hungry chickens and I soughed
For them my abc’s: they ate them up like tapioca pudding,
And I flipped over sixteen times consecutively at the
Fair, at the zoo:
We ate astronaught ice-cream, watched the otter sewing
Sweetly on the mermaid’s naked chest;
But, Oh-damned girl, what I am doing? We ain’t done none
Of that: Oh-shuckeds, Oh-damned girl you floated away
Before I could pull you strings, to see and smell
The mechanisms of your moving.