Just Underneath Something That Seemed So Beautiful Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Even though as silent as a fox watching whatever
Housewives are on display behind the bright
Bright windows in the upset zoetrope of
The apoplectic weather, I sing to you like a mute
In a feral cathedral- sing of the lonesome seabed
Of my youth, and the otters who floated
Above me while I skipped school, and the stolen
Bicycles floated down across the mermaids
That I could not really see- and the world was
Torn up, and made to settle down, like something
Marvelous for a day attracting tourists-
The paper wounds like a eucrists for my body,
And the green yard an entire play, with the red,
Red ants always crawling just underneath something
That seemed so beautiful.