My Most Cherished Of Things Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Trailer in the underbrush where the little children play,
River just as rusting filled with the old cars of dreams:
And this isn’t the city,
This is every emollition underneath the thunderbird’s
Wings:
This is the windbag of winos courting alligators in a park
That has sawed off and is un congratulatory even amidst
The hurricanes;
And Diana, here I love her while the snakes sing:
They coil from the jungle gym, from the monkey bars:
Fat bears and pleasurable ants in a honey beneath the
Slide;
And I have thoughts of her in my eyes: they cast the moon into
The stars and wait for her patiently, and the cars proceed
Back and forth like saints, like housewives in stream,
As I am in the dusky truancy feeling her up into crepuscule
Far into the amusements of my most cherished of things.