To No Avail Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Statures of Christmas trees always being sold
Into twilight to a zoetrope of high heeled housewives
As the foxes fish quite constantly from the side steps
Of the canal where the green and copper
And jade coffins lie like a Ferris wheel of unspeaking
Folklores- where the animals are lazy shoppers,
Picking flowers and leaving their trails:
And the sky and its hobos does what it always seems
To do, while the children- the children get out of
School, going home to homes abandoned looking for
Other things to sell- as I look into your eyes-
Into your brown, brown eyes, oh muse, but to no avail.