The Virgin's Everlasting Spring Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Barmaids in the sauce of waves- so bosomy and
Naïve;
I suppose in the morning the will be collecting themselves from
The lips of dragons,
Or the great white sharks in the tattoos of a
Party forest;
And then the night just glows, like I have seen her eyes do,
Sitting right next to me at the adulterous picnic,
Sitting and staring for dolphins,
For waves;
And she said that I enjoy spending time with you, and that is all
That there is;
But I know that there is some kind of hidden stairway up to where
The hidden room where her father is still held captive
By the serpents of thieves;
And I know I can save him, or at least I can join him;
And I can feed him little pieces of me, like the joints of a rich story,
While his daughter looks upon us in a trance of the bluest bluest
Eyes;
And I just want to touch around her cul-de-sac of so many scars,
While in the darkness I fear to see the lions that are loping
Toward me,
After I have given up on the school bus; and now I know it is my time;
And I have to stop sharing the renegade bicycle with my sister,
And I have to give up on my soda-pop games,
And welcome death beside the virgin’s everlasting spring;
And I do- I do….