The Shadows Of Your Infinite Sisters Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I’ve counted coo on the roofs of high school,
And now she is mine:
I don’t have to buy her bouquets anymore, nor wait
In her homogenous lines-
I can stand out in the sun taller than any bullies,
And twirl my phallic gun,
And she’ll come to me- after my car is keyed,
And all the circuses are done.
Then the sun is just so runny, almost eloping with
Crepuscule and all the mailboxes are opened tongued:
And the housewives are softly revolving like
Satellites in their air-conditioned cars,
And grandparents are fit for dinner. The ambulances
Have crashed, the alligators in the torpid rivers;
And I know who you are, even while wearing your
Violet masks, your heliotrope surprises:
You sound just as silently as immaculate gliders:
You are the whispers of a burglarized house, and I am
Almost getting paid:
I can run up those slopes to your ding-dong
Door
Just as easily as my dogs: We can all come to you,
And we can all fly, and take you out of the windows
And make-believe: You don’t have to be wife or daughter,
And all your mountains are the savage paps of
An unending goddess the twins of America were founded,
Suckled and let loose in a floating trinket through the weeds
Of an almost great suburbia;
Even with you missing from the streets, somehow,
The clouds seemed to paint over where you had left us,
Making the shadows of your infinite sisters dancing there still
Which I hope you do not mind.