For Another Makebelieve World Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Filling in things here, as if in a delta all of the traffic
Streams to- past museums
And down the luscious concrete slope of a
Parking garage as smooth
As a virgin’s brow:
Boats rowing on her body, park here when the current
Gets off work,
Looks at things that might be sold basking in the cooling
Shadows underneath the overpass
With the Mexicans, the snakes, and the rainbows:
It feels okay for a little while,
Outside of high school- filibustering in the weeds,
And the songs that come from them come out of
Tune,
But perfect and carrying on for a little ways
The sad music the ants must here as they think of
Her, galloping towards her ankles like
Monoliths of reindeer,
Holidays of natural monuments-
For a little kiss, for a little sting- for her to recognize them,
And then the little death
And no more breathing- ants have lungs no more,
As they recognize their queen stepping from the mowed
Grass and across the street
Like another god leaving their graveyard,
Leaving their home for another make believe world.