Of Never, Never Land Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Diana, Diana: you are real while I am wrecked,
And upon all of this sorbet I have collected by senses for
Another try:
Another roll of the dice into the epiphany of rainbows:
Another shot at bull’s eye; and Diana, Diana, this is just another
Trying while all of my veins are just as cold as ice,
Because I could never be a university professor, could never
Even be your niece, and all the pools, the pools of affluent houses
Sure do, sure look nice:
And yes, yes I am wilting, wilting on your windowsill:
A beautiful, beautiful flower that yes, yes! Once was real:
And now is just a flower past midnight,
Tearing itself to death, picking its petals and smelling its earthy,
Earthy breath:
While fireworks, fireworks shoot off underhand like softball in the
Working class parks of Royal Palm Beach,
And of Never, Never Land.