Fireworks Again Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Yards and yards, in the plagiarized field;
But what is the king doing, but turning you down:
Or he is turning into
A four legged thing, that his son will kill;
And he is losing all of his friends, but
The movie theatre is
Quiet and peaceful, because sometimes here,
I skip into other shows,
And I listen to my grandmother on my birthday,
Telling me promises of artificial fire,
As I try to think of how things should feel right
While dance, or not dancing
Without wings or legs, and there is just the
Pornography in the blue dunes, like the major
Event for the cenotaphs
Of conquistadors, or anyone else who cares enough
To be here, pounding on a door in the middle of
A forest that takes a long time to get to,
While the prettiest of honeys sing, or stretch their
Arms to become another attempt at the make-believe
Fireworks brushing their lips once again into the sky.