Their Men To Bed On Time Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Bodies curling in their beds as strumpets,
As their tits are curling
Upwards like Christmas ornaments, and listen to all the many
Stories that they have been telling:
Like I used to sit with my parents on Easter in the Gun Club
With the car salesmen and it was a beautiful America:
At least all the prettier women were beautiful,
And I and my sister could go and buy cat food and feet all the
Vagabond felines and not really have to think about it:
Now my sister and I both have beautiful houses,
And the ocean teals, and the sky pearls: Sharon, the sky really pearls,
And I wonder when the last time was you played with yourself
In the high weeds along Military Trail; or I doubt that you
Ever did,
And the terrapin misses you; and at least you haven’t had to see all
Of my new scars;
And I will sell fireworks and miss you: maybe I will climb in Colorado
Again just to look down your blouse or up your skirt;
But if you really need me, I will be there, like a super hero who is always
Drunk:
Now stop thinking of anything and just remember how beautiful you are:
How beautiful your daughter is, and that because of you the day can go on
Forever musing,
Trumpeting and petting the swans: and because of you man can go on
Forever selling all of his stuff;
And most importantly I don’t have to rhyme; and the housewives will
Always serve dinner and get their men to bed on time.