The Color Of An Ambiguous Moon Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Rounding the bases of marbles,
As if we were small children in a kaleidoscope again:
What a mess,
Our knees and lips wanting to elope,
Flames and paper weights in our hair; and turning around,
Realizing the pets that once loved us-
And that we loved, were being set free, but there was so
Many of them it was an uncountable deluge
Which made us heartbroken, watching them disappearing
Into the cracks without any names- and further
Away- even further away than this,
The girls that we once said we loved, before we left
Them to sell fireworks- there they were kissing new shadows,
Turning around in a zoetrope the size of a lost
Penny with a patina the color of an ambiguous moon.