Tomorrow's Consumptions Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The city at night,
The city at large:
Open mouthed, swallowing,
The giant in the clouds;
It was swallowing its bridegrooms-
It was swallowing its anyways at night:


This wasn't just America,
Like a bridegroom awaiting
And this wasn't just a lonely
Wife pressed against
The canals-

Trying to press herself up against the saltwater
Tears
OF chirstmas.
This was all of the saltwater tears of all
Of the presidents
Awaiting the come down and the annexations
Of all of our houses:

Even after we had realized that we were just rabbits
Pressed into our hutches after hours
Of the openness of holidays:

This was just the last lamp that shed itself
After the last opening hours of all of the holidays:

And I have kept myself closed mouthed afterawhile
After the closings down of all of the openings of the highways:

The high schools are all of the pretty monuments:
In the bathrooms, all of the prettiest girls have been looking at
Themselves after the bipasses of all of the highways:

But now, anyways, after the nights bloom,
I swallowed my pride and learned to walk sideways:

And this winds up to be shown into the wherewithal
Of all of those defeated decades:

The night blooming jasmine are coming soon
Before all of the echoes of the blooming tomorrows:
In beautiful decades, all of the housewives are opening and bedecking themselves

And this just happens to be the last restoration
Of the colors by which they are costuming themselves tomorrow.