Your Beautiful Insociance Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Your Beautiful Insociance

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Oh, the pain of roller coasters that I have:
And I walk with you near the sea, and I remember you in
4th grade,
And I wish I was so beautiful as to catch you,
And line you out and slit you from gill to gill, cleaned;
But you have beautiful ears,
And your sons shall play baseball, and Gracie will prick her
Finger on a loom and fall asleep for so many thousands
Of years;
And this is the grayness of my scuppernongs in the deep norths
Of Michigan that howl for you now uncontained,
Like werewolves out jouncing on the untestified footpaths of
Tourists
While the fireflies are dying;
And then today, amidst the traffics and hullabaloos,
Didn’t we press like powder kegs, like mammals in the chimpanzoo:
Didn’t we press our juxtapositions,
And then we kissed like little golden books;
And I was so afraid of all my scars next to your perfect perfections;
And we kissed, and your lips were the afterlife of
Nocturnal gardens taking their time with me under the overpasses
Of this life;
And so I swear by you and bury my head like a terrapin in the wet
Cement of another dream,
The emotions of censers reciprocating on the swings;
And I dream like a windmill of a dream drinking from a the water fountain
Of your soul;
As you turn and spin, effortlessly- and your beautiful insouciance
Makes me whole.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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