The Truancies Of Little Boys Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Pillaging rattlesnakes in the
Abandoned rooms of hyperborean castles:
Way up there in the accoutrements
Making kissing balls out of their
Ankles
In the movie theatres of the clouds
And honeymoons out of
Their dungeons:
You see these things with no legs swimming about
In the blindness of their daydreams-
Filled with venom
And egotistical advances-
They come together, forked tongued-
And make holidays out of highways where you can
Look down and see the trespasses of the
Beautiful sea upon the stalwart forts again:
She is wanting a child again-
But the frictions of her séances is untrustworthy:
She is just happy to be there,
And soon he will be bowing low-
To look at the sea horses underneath her skirts,
And the truancies of little boys ride their bicycles into
Her forever.