Like The Latchkeys Raised By The Cartoons Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Soon the moon will see us or the sun—
Kissing in the carport of a vanished honeymoon—
And the bluegills will have to sing to themselves anyways—
The tomorrows will get up as an entire band of
Awakening elbows who go polishing their silver—
Because this is their world that we cannot remember—
It is a joyful place with the sunlight of the daylight
Floods us out of school—
And I give to your bedrooms, awakening in the morning as
The rooster crows—gallivanted into the pastures
Of the arrowheads crossed before the
Nosecones of the airplanes on their honeymoons—
Perfumed by the strangely obnoxious steps of the
Infatuated conquistadors—as they stepped out of their crypts
In the early mornings just after the wetted séances of
Star crossed lovers—
Realizing at that very moment that all of the rivers led
Up to colleges and this was just another given to us to believe
In—like an afternoon abandoned indoors,
And like latchkeys raised by the cartoons of their children.