The Unfortunate Canal Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Tiniest of beauties I will get to see going back to school
Tomorrow—
Blue gills in the canal—I never thought of her—
Beautiful mirage,
Like a kite stuck up in the tree—as the children play around
And around contracting diseases of their merriment—
How long will they have to slumber:
How long will her lips taste the water fountain between classes—
Make believe legs stumbling through the halls—
I think she should be a stewardess- as diminutive as a fairy
Taking a ride on a tight-nosed bottle rocket across the unfortunate canal.