To A World Built To Adore You Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Marmalade on the lips of a bumble bee
On the lips of my muse: there you are cavorting in
The backyard, while all of the cars
Are sunken into the canal: your breasts are beautiful
If shallow,
And it does not matter what you want- they will
Give you a house backed up to the hills and stacked
With Indians and they will run liquors down your
Naked form in the moonlight;
And they will ride you alongside a bicycle-
They will take pictures of your lungs that they will
Give to little boys, and they will send off around
You in a procession of canoes:
Building their amusements in models one fifth your
Size, their toy boats will carry roses to you and
Funnel cakes- and when you are gone,
Making love to your man, they will have another girl
Step into your shoes: she will be nothing like
You, but she will learn so much just by being there-
And the sun will sweeten the throat of the sky,
And the birds there will sing to a world built to
Adore you.