The Preternatural Everglades Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I have been awakened and it is
September:
I have been sleeping: I have been sleeping,
But now I am awakened
Out of my dreams
And looking at the boys playing
Baseball in autumn
Underneath the bouquets of all of
Their things,
And the little girls playing housewives
Or at least pretend
That is a beautiful orchard- and we don’t
Have to stand here all alone
In the Laundromat of our afternoons:
We don’t have hold our temples
Through the bereavements of all of these
Septembers,
As the rains come, and the leaves change color:
At least we are in the same graveyards
As our grandmothers,
As the airplanes cross the paths of the heavens,
Even if they wont be touching down
To the lips of the wishing wells
Into which we’ve spent so much money- we can
Love them anyways-
As they seem to be cursing through lesser known
Heavens, as we count our luck down here,
Hoping we can sell even more fireworks,
As the racehorses trample the murky flowers-
Trying to pass their heavy bodies off as lovers
Into the abandoned natures of the preternatural everglades.