The Beautiful People Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I will not live forever:
I will die and the waves will bury me without any
Sort of sweeter pornography,
But while I lived I’ve had the chance for my lips
To sip sweet liquor,
To believe in the braver paganisms that come rushing
Like the noise of sound,
To sit together with distant friends in an air-conditioned
Theatre and to look together
At the beautiful people,
Those who together best represent the species,
The milk men and astronauts who are floating
Together
Door to door, a careless fraternity without a sound,
Pollinating both of those lips of you and your sister,
While neither I nor your husband are
Anywhere around,
Around.