There I am- <br />Again, a child in a playground of <br />Kindergarten, <br />Remembering Christmas the same way I will <br />Also remember <br />My first masturbation- <br />On the green rug, stripped forever, <br />Underneath the stewardesses, <br />A latchkey looking for <br />Certain housewives- as all of suburbia <br />Nods off in a trance of <br />Pitiful flowers, <br />Until new avenues glow underneath the <br />Sleep of their eyes- <br />And for awhile, <br />Crimson estuaries between their legs <br />Like midnight churches burning the slender <br />Rookies that also must <br />Bring their children to them <br />From the fire houses where the faeries live: <br />And if you looked into her eyes, <br />I know that you’d have to agree, <br />That they were not there too long ago, <br />Because the cinders are yet <br />Smoldering, <br />And goldilocks is upstairs sleeping in bed <br />Even as the three bears are finally arriving home.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-three-bears/
