The First Steps of Outside
Making love in front of coquina fireplaces sometime
After school,
While all of the debutants were getting ready for
Their decathlon of enviable plays,
Jogging in place, and combing their hair:
The unmistakable angels in the iron clad air, kissing the
Follicles of their perfect skin,
The tryst of crepuscule make vulgar machinations
Around the four corners of their house,
Like liquor around an Indian reservations:
But they would soon all go out into this, a sorority fully on
The metamorphosis,
With or with out roller-skates, and making love,
But never so far as to make it across the canal,
Or to think so long of the commercial voyages of the wishing
Airplanes,
As to remember or think of me, as I laid like something
Amphibian against the banks of their parks which they would
Hardy think about anymore, which they would so
Easily be stolen away from,
Their fast kindled fires burning before the doors of
Other campuses, jaunting up state, until they would finally
Graduate and become something less than more
All together but one at a time in their wedding processions
That would never even make it through the first steps of outside.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
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