In Their Goldfish Bowls Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I wrote most of my poetry for you
When I as twelve years old,
In pure delight upon the saddle while
The blue bird sang,
Radiant in the cannibalisms- as the sun
Doused the fire tower in the summit
Like gasoline,
And the mummies remained perfectly
Entombed:
So they remained, and Grand Central
Station remained,
And the pond where the ducks were
Remained,
Like Allie and his baseball glove:
Perfectly obscure around the outlines
Of school,
While cheerleaders were swimming,
And the goldfish were dancing in their
Goldfish bowls.