The Wings Of Beautiful Grasshoppers Poem by Robert Rorabeck

As a course, these people spill their desires far beneath
The sun:
This is the way they’ve been doing it since the world was
Young,
And none of it feels anymore sincere enough to be
Real,
But it is the only way that I still know how to feel:
And the sun has been coming up and kicking itself around,
Attended by its harems of
Clouds and supermen: while through it all most of us all go
Through it all but anonymous,
And we breathe our wildest dreams away at the movies
Until the night comes and we can lie all together, all the many
Now faceless breathing in the deepest shadows underneath the
Overpasses of our cities;
And that is when the real joy blooms, when we cannot even
See to feel our bodies:
And we make love, and the angels watch us, as the waves
Caress themselves on the other side of our shoulders
That we rub together steadily like branches of the wings of
Beautiful grasshoppers just to keep warm enough to survive.