Chrismas Of At Least Poem by Robert Rorabeck

You seem to think the stewardesses I paint
Are so beautiful,
But so much for your mouth or the way you've
Been daydreaming
Right beneath the faux teardropp of another
Disney World
Whilst I've been drinking from another rummy
Fountain—right there are the ends of
The world and all of the prettiest fairytales
That you know—and it doesn't
Much so matter that you've lost your job—
And my own words fly to their own
Cathedrals—this is just the imaginations which
I love,
All burnt out and trying to recover to
The steam-engines upon the patios—
You can fire me,
But I will still awaken, upon Christmas or
Whenever—
It doesn't seem that I am going anywhere—
Even with all of your seas so strung out,
And the dogs of wherever licking the bones off my
Foot:
Don't you think that it happens to be beautiful
Anyways,
At least until there is a Christmas, a Christmas of
At least, anyways….