Enjoying The Game Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Estranged here—feeling alright—passed out underneath the
Overpasses of another country—as the girl you love,
Pretending to be a stewardess, checks in her dolls:
And you can pretend at making love in a little
House you paid for with cash at the end of a cul-de-sac
In Saint Augustine when your dreams were just a few years old:
Can't you remember: how the stewardesses leapt and leapt,
And the frog princes sang and sang, and your face became
More and more beautiful, until all that you knew became a
Tourist attraction—another place to attenuate and enjoy the
Light, after the Indians were vanquished—
And the ice-cream had all melted into your refrigerator that
Never worked even though you were all that was beautiful—
And the conquistadors came home to your forts, furrowing their
Crosses like tourists and other worldly passengers who
Kept themselves so busied at enjoying the game.