Into Stranger And Other Streams Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Trailer parks of my ancestry where nothing ever
Closes,
But nothing ever gets done on time,
Because everyone is enjoying the Ferris Wheels
Underneath the mountains
In the lackadaisical metamorphosis that never
Really changes,
Or goes to the forest to shed the old skeletons
Or armors,
But they bend down and drink from the challises
Of wishing wells and waitresses,
As October comes around and its so many birthdays,
While I suppose you haven’t seen her,
Because she lives upon the other coast;
But the angels burn like candles for her, even though
She is so young:
Her first born son is just learning to walk,
And her husband is playing tennis:
Soon she will even forget where she lives-
As she enjoys one Fourth of July after another,
And her children metamorphosis into demigods with
Wings,
And tadpoles grow legs and arms and swim and
Leap into stranger and other streams.