To Make Love To The World Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Wind through the palmettos sounds like
My mother’s footsteps,
Sounds like the trafficking of beautiful patrons
Through my sleep;
And today I rode a will a real felon so he could
Buy new trailer parts for
My father,
And I thought of all that my venal muse had
To say:
How she would like to be with another man and
His other woman,
And the chickens kept time in the sky,
And even the headless ones were beautiful,
As I counted the hours of the day,
Thinking too of beautiful women in Colorado,
Women who could never be sold
Nor defeated,
Women who could take all of Africa and turn it into
Holland for Joe;
And I thought of the tall Blackman James, from
Kenya, and how he keeps on making me
Miss Kenya even if I have never been there,
Because he is so nice;
And I dismissed socialism,
And I pleasured myself, but was too busy to
Think of buying a house,
But one day soon I will have a home and my dogs
Will come running to me from Arizona,
And the winds will advertise like leaping tigers in the
Sky, floating across the wings of airplanes like
Hungry lovers,
Like flowers who open and close throughout the day
Unsure of how they should continue to make
Love to the world.