For Me To Move Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Recorded through the pale subway,
Losing myself here—another exegesis as red
As Mars—
The life unnatural, as far away from the lures of
Middle class housewifery as one can be—
And finding myself in a lazy manner as I turn
Thirty six—
Once again the fox who has disregarded the
Savage advertising of the grapes—
Though in their cages of cities, the vixens move,
Spilling into the orifices
And the ballrooms of their zoos.
I watch them from an unnaturally safe distance—
An impossible distance for me to move.