Edie's Garden Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Edie threw white roses from the balcony;
And the finer generals said, “She doesn’t have
Any hair, ” but Edie didn’t care:
She went around Bel Noir tossing candy like
A bouquet exposé,
And the no talent bards wrote songs about her
No one would sing,
But I remembered her from high school,
When no one else did: I did, but Edie didn’t
Care. I went out during lunch and slept underneath
The broken down purple school bus,
While even then it rained for a cabaret of
Crocodiles, even though there weren’t any crocodiles
Anywhere near there; but Edie didn’t care:
She went straight out and down the bank before
Latin, and straddled them like steeds;
The principal said they’ll eat you Edie, take care;
But Edie didn’t care: She just threw her hands up and
Sang, and sang; and she wore a red scarf thatched through
With sun flowers and wood thrushes.
I imagine she rode them around the entire neighborhood
Until it rained so much it flooded;
But Edie didn’t care- She moved up to her Long Island
Summer home, and laid down amidst the cats and kissed
Her mother until it was time to go back to school,
But she stayed at home anyways,
While in the vast lonely habitats the lions roared,
The traffic squawked and two handsome brothers came
And set up a camera to make a movie of Edie;
So when it was all over, the audience agreed that it was
The most beautiful thing,
But Edie didn’t care, and threw her white roses
From the balcony to the fine young generals,
And of them in later days, retired under the palm trees,
Edie sang and sang.