Upon The Strings Of The Moon Poem by Robert Rorabeck

They tried to teach us as the sun showers
Fell across the moonbeams
And the unicorns made love to their
Cousins in
The happenstance of the roadside motels:
And the oceans matriculated
And carried off the roses of dead prostitutes
Beside the honeymoon forts
Upon which they fell,
And the dreams of school teachers still come
Nocturnal,
Haunting and scenting their favorite
Places of moonbeam tourisms,
Where their children string wild foxes
To their wrists—
Wild animals long of tail who go leaping like
Bottle rockets towards the grapes of
The gift shops:
And talking cartoons fill the streets alongside
Their light shows—
Zeppelins reach up and zigzagging steal the lights out
Of the moon,
But someone else is going home anyways—
Can't you see that gentleman crossing the street,
Leaving the bedside of your mother—
Until all is lost, and the honeymoons forgotten,
And yet the children still find some kind of haunted
Warmth in their classrooms,
As the rainstorms caress the abandoned fairgrounds of
The Ferris Wheels—
Who now kiss other lips beneath in seas who dance
Upon the strings of the moon.