Your Brown And Unending Shows Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In the yellow houses that the bodies carouse,
Some making love, and some abuse: all of the whirligigs of
Tantamount success,
The housewives in the nomenclatures depending on the rooms
Of their house:
The winos forever underneath the repleted overpass:
The wildflowers in the wild glass;
And your bare feet out against the propitious paths over
The neighborhoods that you pass,
Like a lovely angel, a fine girl of proletarian class:
And I look out for you, and call you by the waywardness of my soul
That has found its home in your
Brown cradle,
Like a warm cave where immaculate things so come to pass:
Where butterflies winter, where rainbows drink,
Famished from their blue hallways, your perfumes so likely
To linger,
Even as your journey continues over the ribcages of my zoetropes,
Beatings its strobes the way windows let in the fanfares
Of airplanes into a darkened room,
Or across the glittering spine of girls, even where beautiful girls
Are looking up into the dancing hallways of
Your brown and unending shows.