The Roses Of Their Lips Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I know who you are
Into a web of kindergarten
And I am right here
Listening to the
Housewives behind my house
Whispering of their
Mango trees,
And bragging about how
Easy it is
To sell themselves;
And then the busses of high school
Come and their candy girls
And hummingbirds
Line up at the
Drinking fountains
Waiting for the roses of their
Lips to dry, only so that they can
Kneel down to drink again.