The Purple World Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If all of a peacock was purple
It would be a star—
No cerulean or evergreen—
No place for
Mermaids to admire it—
Purple fanning underneath the sun,
Showing all of the tourists—
All of the housewives that he is
A man—maybe if they could love
Through an everyday metamorphosis,
They would wish upon him—
To feed him popcorn
And to make love to him—
The usual hijinks between the orchards
And the highways—in the singing
Prisons where they they—
But it is not possible for them to think of
Him as anything else than a peacock,
Even if all of purpled fanned—
Though he is more beautiful than them—
And at night,
After the busses leave the animals naked
Underneath the heartthrob heavens,
He will count dreams to himself in
His purple world—
Think of all of the women he could have
Married—
If he were not only a peacock, a star in
The purple world.