Into Its Little Brown Reservoir Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Banded into a version that cannot be destroyed,
Overlooking the aqueducts
That the fish rise up to believe: in each caesuras the unicorns
Of your sisters who are still in high school
And just about finished at what it takes in the learning of
Good Americas:
While the tourists at the fruit market unabashedly take pictures
Of your brown sorority:
Who even in their first generation made it all of the way
Of Mexico, whose brothers are named Raul- who
Cross dress in Texas underneath the penultimate pinafores
Of the Alamo:
Who you would like to kiss, yourself, Alma: like a fish coming
Up for all the fireworks across the skylines of a night of
Very patriotic holidays,
When all the world was a vision- like a unique dream of
Your childhood, and you held my overeager hand until it
Over spilled into its little brown reservoir and you could do
Nothing else but to believe.