Robert Rorabeck

Veteran Poet - 1,950 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Good Kid - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

You are a good kid even
If your eyes don't match
And I drink too much rum from Brazil
Or Cuba or the middle of the sun—
And it isn't the easiest of things—being fit for it—
In the middle of the day after your
Girlfriend ran away
Because she was too beautiful—and dumb—
And there were no more fireworks left
To sell—
But in the morning—the roosters gave to us their
Echoes—
And it was that very anonymity of things that
Seemed to resurrect us to our jobs:
Like the turtles to their canals—
The conquistadors to their cenotaphs—
The used car salesmen to their Christmas trees—
And you to some other classroom across the school—
But your bravery is a calling card—
And I can tell your fortune to the sun and the moon—
And the children will come out of the southern theatre—
Echoing recreationally until their mouths are
Filled with ice cream—or the mirages of their
Mothers' cleavages—which seems to imply that the entire
World can do fine without you—
Even though it cannot—
The airplanes are jut mirages bouncing off a hot pan—
Even after your heart is twisted enough—
And scarred—and, oh, what a memory to behold until
There is nothing left—and the tents have been taken down into
The palmettos, and the cat is licking herself-
And then the entire family of the forgotten memory is heading
Like a rocket into Disney World—precisely as I had imagined-
And fantasy and imagination where I thought
I had forgotten you suddenly found out that she could do
A fine job of taking care of herself—
And forgot herself in your eyes—and you became a blind man
And sold used cars like your father—
Until the night spread its feathers and filled the faces
Around the sidelines of the flea market we couldn't even
Go to because the hurricane scared away the pedestrians-
And that was the night I finally figured out you would
Be spending the rest of your life with your husband.


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, August 28, 2012



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