Two Tired Eyes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Two tired eyes,
Flat tires meaningless to road kill,
Just things we throw to the side
Bouquets with their tongues hanging out
Tangled shoes up on the
Swaybacked power lines,
Knowing very little but wanting the
Refreshments of your lips
Who don’t care:
They are spry winged mockingbirds
Who sail over the shoulders of
Better men and their paper towel
Laughters:
And you have a sweet tongue that pullulates
In the garden:
It doesn’t need to sell things, but it
Does,
And your weathers are forever leaping
Without corners and balmy,
The nimbus of airplanes celebrating the
Youth of your immortal holidays to which
My eyes lay like shallow abscesses like
Puddles hidden under broken school
Buses,
And the soft bellies of alligators as they
Lay dancing, dancing underneath the world,
As the jaws of the pearl tent flap and jabber walls,
With all the pretty things it has to
Tell to you.