Our Hallucinations Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Fairs have gone and
Ferris wheels—and soon it will be time for
My wedding banquet:
When I went to Shanghai for the first time
Around Christmas of last year and saw her for the
First time holding a bouquet for me next to
The airport next to her Uncle John:
I thought she was more than all right—
With all of her eyes lighted up with a pinwheel the
Same colors as I've never seen before:
And my heart is as happy as a jackrabbit just
Come out of a gentleman's hat for some type of
Magic trick underneath the mountain I just used to
Disappear of:
And I just want to have a daughter with her,
I just want to have a sun—and forget about the heart attacks
Of valentine's day—or the way the stewardesses run and
Leap over ethereal candles illuminating the dungeons on
Their birthdays—the way that cantankerous death finally
Grabs them and shuts them out,
Like my last muse at the bowling alley or at the fruit market
Until the day is gone—spent into the soft necks and
Kisses of house wives—
And the stolen bicycles rest pensive and illusive:
Where are they—only those accustomed to skipping school
Will ever know, but it is an eerie thought,
And all of the gardens surrounding her become over abundant
With deadly tricks—
And the sky blooms with dying heavens: Up there,
A grandmother who lived for unfathomable eons—giving her
Live to civilizations we can never think to explore or to
Even imagine:
As she waited for me on the tarmac and wept for me
Even after she had become my wife—and we were both staring
At each other through the corridor, something unutterably true
Down at the end of the mystifying kaleidoscope of all of
Our hallucinations.