The Girl Across The Street Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In another dowsing of the head—
To wherever the mammals go when they nod off:
When they are better men,
Given to valleys where the know the names of
Flowers and of death—
But, otherwise, to amusement rides that in the
Morning blow off like paper snowflakes making
Love to lighters—
Like angels sold as statuary at flea markets—
Only leaving the nuisances of the words,
Like hangnails, to bloom painfully by themselves—
To keep on pretending that they are getting
Better—while the other side of the canal
Keeps looking greener and greener,
And the girl across the street
Keeps promising her back of tricks to the new
Mailman who arrives every day with nothing
To lose.