One Last Look Poem by Robert Rorabeck

There is a place in the green emblems unobservable
By the major players of baseball—
Where I have skipped school repeatedly and gone to
Try and drink the lucky fish from their
Lucky well—
I have tried to imbibe entire fountains of gold
Coins the conquistadors left underneath
The full moons of trailer parks
Trying to give their high school teachers a
Hard time-
As from the emptied recesses of the game,
A new belief bloomed after all of the stores were
Closed—after the streetlights budded like
Facsimiles of the moons—
And the world of night transcended—gave birth
To zoetropes and drive-ins: made the watermelons
Grow—and placed his scarred hands upon
Her tiny breasts: showed hidden paths to
The nests of monsters who fornicated over the
Bones of defeated heroes—to which the conservationists
Gave entire parks and estuaries to—
And so they bedded beneath the gold moons of the
Egrets—and kept their soft and hidden secrets—
And the street lights turned on, like dying men trying
To get one last look across the canal.