Not Anywhere Around Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Beautiful in the common place
Underneath the bricks of blinded
Rainbows,
As all of the parks wait in the recesses of
The highways until
We cannot remember our loves:
And you go back to your husband, and
I buy a wife
Who is more beautiful than you are
And puts delicious scars on my neck,
And keeps me riding all the way
To the west coast
Where new poems can be divided and I can
Live out my younger years
In a trailer park that never knew your name:
In the luscious abstraction,
In the curl of the waves not a single tourists
Has ever heard,
In the cusp of the shallow nonsense that
Feeds itself in the gloom,
I will find another playground and amuse myself,
Pretending,
Even though you are not anywhere around.