The Mystifying Surface Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The Mystifying Surface



My soul still makes potty words, seeing the absences
In primary colors:
It can not hold the court of its browned gaze for longer
Than ten seconds,
But it still sees the unicorns gaggling like the effluvious
Bubbles in the backyards of preschool,
And I have tasted Kelly’s tongue once in the penumbra of
The Riviera Beach draw bridge, but will never
Ride in her pink saddles;
It is almost enough to talk about the glued glitter of roller rinks,
The rubber balls happily bounced by two legged canines
Whose tails have shrunken to the size of secreted goldfish,
And I suppose that every one of us has our diamonds,
Glittering in the shallows, or hidden deep beneath the
Mystifying surface.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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