Their Childish Neighborhoods Poem by Robert Rorabeck

They had friends who made love for
A little while arm and arm beneath the cars in between
The middle of their classes
Like turtles eating orchids- and they sang to her of
Their romances, dark eyed,
Scarred with fireworks- and they hungered for her
In the sea, even though all of her waves came
Imperfectly - flooding their living rooms,
Making their mothers dance in the
Filtered sunlight of their kitchens- until they went
Outside where their little brothers were playing
With dye cast cars, and what were they saying
To them, as they started across
Like the debutants of ghosts- imagining the pearls
Hidden in the rhinestones of snails,
Going back again to the reflecting glow of the
Slumbering chaos of their childish neighborhoods.