Fireballs Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Some pretty flask tossed into the canal
Sleeping in the alligator’s bed as he dreams of Girls
As the witches fly over their housewife cousins:
They go to make love in the cypress,
As the row boats sleep above their heads
In their shallow journeys from the islands-
Around their roots the crypts sink in
And the moccasins lumber in erstwhile balls-
Their ballrooms of bellies enthralling,
As the young girls clap majestically at the airplane‘s
Fireballs are tumbling.