Mexico Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Imperfect joy: by you I am wilting: the body of
My phallus,
So sad after Christmas- all of my bicycles are stolen,
And by this sad measure I sing
As the sun goes down so thriftily: while I was walking
Throughout the concrete elbows of the day
The entire world a shanty town too glad to see its own
Four legged reflection in
The chrome of the wheels that someone bought for
Himself instead of her;
And if it was a wish, it was never received, but sang in
The antechamber behind its vision,
As the patrols circulated in the heavens, until she finally
Receded like a dying star back across the bosque,
Back across the frontera,
And again into Mexico.