My Make-Believe Loss Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If I should mention to Diana tomorrow
Again how beautiful she is,
I will not be worried about being made fun of
Or ignored:
I’ve been all of this and so many things before
In the morning waiting for the school bus,
I am an animal in a pet cemetery
Abandoned, absurd:
I have a plastic coffin and a tin horn of paper flowers,
And I will sleep forever outside of her
Warm tresses:
She serves breakfast and lunch to prettier boys,
Is the word,
But I’ll wake up and move the paper stone from my
Toy crypt my absent acolytes put there as a joke;
And the bicycles will spin their Mandela’s of silver spokes;
And the naked room will smoke from
Forest fires and happy airplanes pealing their exhaust;
And the sea will come up and console me, kissing me
Happily as a master over my make-believe loss.