City Of Their Daydreams Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Place me in the salesroom of another
Gypsie's queen and I will moth off for you—
I will throw my own father underneath the buss—
As the most beautiful of women still try to survive
In the exact middle of the country,
And as the school children get home today
They try to watch cartoons—
But the tortoise has lasted as long as the
Dinosaurs, so what is his spell—
What does he have that we are missing—
Now that the time is almost gone underneath
The airplanes—
And the same illusions become lost underneath the
Zoetrope—until the space explorers are finally explored—
And the zoo has time to touch itself beside the sea—
And the rest of our reasons are left over to time
And perpetuity—in the kindergartens of the day-glow
Recesses where all of the other mountaineers have already failed,
And these are the last tracks the mountain lions have already
Pretended to caresses—so the night is already lost beneath
The immense tourists who come like winter to a daylight
They mean to explore—perpetuated by their unawareness
In a daylight where they become as meaningless as the
City of their daydreams.