Maybe they will feel beautiful themselves tomorrow:
Maybe Alma will touch my face with smiles,
Even if she wont allow me to touch her, until we grow big again,
And she gets naked into my own rooms:
But it feels alright, otherwise: that I only know how to paint when
I am drunk,
And that I have spent my life slipping into presupposed graveyards:
My feet are all wet and naked,
And the airplanes are low and curious, while the waves are
Tasting themselves in too many caesuras to be counted;
The housewives just smile,
And some of them are touching themselves while laying eggs:
Soon they will have names too,
And Mickey Mouse will come out and bless them; and then their
Eyes will glow so brightly, like lighthouses who
Enjoy shopping while their sailors are drowning, defeated
By the hydras, defeated by the sirens,
Defeated by their relations, though even as they pass by the
Saturated anchors, they look good drowning, in the forgiving lights
That their most absent wives have been so kind to spend for them.
Robert Rorabeck
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/their-most-abscent-wives/
