Those Beautifully Anonymous Waves Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Plagiarized in soft flesh:
I want to go down touching the swell lips of her
Grave:
Don’t care how many children she’s had.
I’ve written so many more poems more naked and
Imperfectly needing.
The fair is coming to town and I want to string out
With her and hopefully catch
A vermilion fire
Sparked off one of those bellicose airplanes,
From the match-head of simple tricks;
And buy her a secret diamond
And feel her up under the diademed machines,
Forgetting the reefs of séances our parents have wrecked
Us against;
Or if I was more clever, we could just hold hands:
To feel a woman’s heart beat through her hands again
Would be glorious,
And this time I would know better, and really appreciate
That leggy carnival even if I was never aloud to
Really slip inside:
And to win her prizes of each and every kind.
To feed candy apples to her lips, and laugh at the jealously of
Those red battles.
To smile while surmising the brightnesses of her coy
Duplicities beneath her belladonna eyes:
To dimple my fingers in what salty clefts she might wish to
Swing,
P%ssy-willows fluttering, never caring that I wasn’t a mailman,
Or even a shadow of his occupation;
But that I had once thought of kissing her as I would do to
The effluvious nipples of all those beautifully
Anonymous waves.