In The Balmy Reservoirs Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I look out at the sun of my backyard.
Katydids are crisp at play,
And your dress is shorn around the cutlery of
Palmettos,
Or that’s just the spider’s wicked bay;
And the trees go up forever in their careless
Geometry,
And the planes they are always leaping from
The shopping mall to the sea.
Paper airplanes are scattered everywhere and
Easter eggs, and
I have hidden mirrors to hide my scars;
And aren’t the alligators ululating to the f-ing
Stars-
There is school tomorrow, but I have better greens
Effluvious though colorful up in the playground of
My lonely orange tree;
And I will go to them instead, and without eyes
Looking give them my airy hickies:
I know I will, and I won’t even miss the bus;
I’ll be tom sawyer in my fiberglass canoe,
I’ll fish for blue gills and drool over girls from
Latin class- I know I will,
And I’ll drink my fill towards dusk, following the slight
Banishments of otters on the slow and ochre rust;
And latchkey onto thick blue crepuscule;
And then smoke plantations in the stars- so thankful
To be blanketed in the balmy reservoirs which
Hide all of my delinquent scars.