Treasure Island

Robert Rorabeck

(04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

In The Chinese Theatres


In the zoo on Sundays,
I try not to think—speckled in the shade,
I drink in the sun—
Thinking of nothing is the best thing,
Failures put on hold,
Swans in the man made river
Look beautiful—
All of these captivated animals intermingling
With the housewives—
Born to shoplift from their own shadows—
I am drinking tequila I won from a locker
For a hundred and seventy five dollars—
Echoes brandished in the sheathes and
Armpits that hang lower to the
Light,
Like brandy licked by the tongue of a very
Bold serpent:
Soon, tranquilized, I will fall to sleep—
Once again without any hope
Outside of the cabin where the warm people
Hibernate—
Special, with bold privileges in their cannons,
Wanting to come down but striking no
Compromises with their ever young helliums—
And warn out this way
While cradling their first born children—
And loving in the day-gloom ballrooms
Of the tangled ribbons of glassblown rivers—
Without the daylight or the moon,
Going down the passageways,
Drinking in the Chinese theatres of their misplaced
Atmospheres.

Submitted: Friday, July 19, 2013
Edited: Monday, July 22, 2013
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (In The Chinese Theatres by Robert Rorabeck )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

Poem of the Day

poet George Gordon Byron

So we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart still be as loving,
And the moon still be as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

 

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]