Lighting Off Firecrackers Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Wound of a Ferris Wheel-
OF another low dive to kiss the earth of
Scattered candy,
Where her eyes are all made up by tears:
And my neck is tattooed with
Gung-ho-
Drinking the rum of the British Navy, and
Trying to persevere beneath the
Flight paths of the constellations,
But very soon I will be sleeping
Next to that ever living nothing who grounds
Us all like the tiniest of dreams slipped
Out of the atmospheres of plastic
Bags-
And loves us in her little ways: the ways in which
She loves a brontosaurus after we’ve
All been kicked out of the garden-
And now there is a riot of our love,
As down the street it is very empty but
I can hear all of them lighting off firecrackers….