To Come On Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Oh my god, this is the police
In warm weather, in cold weather, and then in
Warm weather again;
Or this is at least your uncle who has seen you naked
Like the tail of a kite drying itself
Above the trailer park where you believe;
And there is a raccoon outside your door, even before
Darkness;
And it seems to be waiting all of a sudden as if a statue
In a topiary;
And all of the houses are too expensive, all of the
Horses have been ridden:
And there is your love out by the mailbox again, sending
Letters away, but to whom are they for-
And the sky is looking green, but not in an angry light;
It just looks like a toddler who has eaten
A bad canteen of your mother’s chicken noodle soup,
But that was a long time ago,
And maybe that isn’t the color of the sky at all;
And all the raindrops are in fieldtrips over the swingsets
In the park,
And your little brother has stolen your mother’s only
Car and run away to some sweet peninsula further north;
And you can’t really blame him,
Considering how all of this has been going, with
This just being another song to blow your time on,
Biting your nails and waiting for the next wave
To come on.