Like The Folklores Of Dragons Poem by Robert Rorabeck

This is very exciting- this is another night swallowed
Without wondering where all of the conquistadors
Have gone,
But back to their shallow estuaries and nurseries where
The wounds of the brown children
Are lessening- and if you listen with dedication,
Pressing your ear like a wino against the kitchenettes of
The palmettos, you can here them
Like the fireworks the truants take out of their pockets
Atop of the roofs of suburbia in the middle of the afternoon,
While their mothers are all tossed around inside,
Or making out with other boys beside the illusions of
Diamond mines that glisten across the fallacies of their pools,
Like the folklore of dragons that the alligators down the
Easements of the manmade canals are too wise to believe.