In The Middle Of Town

I went to the old park today and saw a girl just like a peach,
Passed out in the mowed grass with her bum in the air,
Her bottle of dousing wine sticking up rather angelically and
Phallic; and I had to stop the car and check again
For myself,
While the children came out like goslings from the old green
Science museum I used to date her in:
But this girl just slept on and on, passed out and heady in the grass,
Her drool probably feeding an army and queen of ants
As the airplanes passed their times insouciantly with just
As godly seraphs of stewardesses taking the breezes:
Then I had to turn around and get a better look at her, up and
Down, the way the biker gang was looking too right across the
Little estuary and not far down the road from the quiet little house
Backed against antique row: The house will soon be mine,
But the girl I will never know; but I saw the way that she grew there
Like the furrow of a receptive field, and I was busy needing her,
Wishing to bench beside her while the dogs tumbled awake out
From the wilting suburbia that happened all around like the color
Around the cornea as pink as an Easter Egg hidden in the middle
Of town.

by Robert Rorabeck

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