In An Obviously Bright And Sunny Day Poem by Robert Rorabeck

All the superheroes go down the rabbit holes
In the rain,
And even the traffic packs up, the recession proceeds
Underneath the greasy lamps underneath overpasses:
All the sweet flowers that I have sent crawling up
Her walls like healthy surprises on Easter close up too:
All the penny candy for boys on bicycles in the lower
Peninsulas of Michigan
Are dripping away, and I don’t know:
I don’t know what I was meant to be doing, only that I have
More money anyways for not knowing what I should
Be doing:
And I’ve sold fireworks out in the middle of a pitchfork
Desert, while I’ve grown new scars and waited for the deluge
Of the things that I would say to her,
And after that the watery proofs of El Arco Iris, and the
Mysterious things that come inside a house after the mailman has
Left,
The children who grow there after school being fed by the
Bright circuses, while the otters swim on their backs and crack the
Legumes in the shoals;
And, anyway, that is just what I’ve meant myself to be saying,
As if life were a musical in an obviously bright and sunny day.