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