The Hallucinations Of The Neon Lights Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Burning loneliness of a society in peril,
Made up of a species unconcerned with extinction:
This is how we make our diseases right here in
The classroom,
Filled out, tiny, tinkered boys walking in stages,
Taking our turns at the attempts of breathing—
Filling our lungs with the autumnal deceivings—
In some day light classroom with a rotten floor and
A rotten teacher, it was almost near where I pretended to
Touch you—jocular missconceptions that bring in
The flowers all the way from Holland
In grand processions of marriages and
Deaths—
The way the bees once tried to pollinate the orchards—
It is not the same now anymore,
There are only fireworks in foreign land
Sold in all night stores managed by ghosts
Under the hallucinations of the neon lights
Of the pagan’s scientific existence.