The Three Bears Poem by Robert Rorabeck

There I am-
Again, a child in a playground of
Kindergarten,
Remembering Christmas the same way I will
Also remember
My first masturbation-
On the green rug, stripped forever,
Underneath the stewardesses,
A latchkey looking for
Certain housewives- as all of suburbia
Nods off in a trance of
Pitiful flowers,
Until new avenues glow underneath the
Sleep of their eyes-
And for awhile,
Crimson estuaries between their legs
Like midnight churches burning the slender
Rookies that also must
Bring their children to them
From the fire houses where the faeries live:
And if you looked into her eyes,
I know that you’d have to agree,
That they were not there too long ago,
Because the cinders are yet
Smoldering,
And goldilocks is upstairs sleeping in bed
Even as the three bears are finally arriving home.