Shanty Cabaret Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Pale though well-delineated fish
Drink to new hombres.
They don’t leap but mull the shoals:
Its easy in this weather.
I stick my leg out and the sea whittles.
The breeze blows my cloak,
And I toss my head back.
After I’ve fainted, I crawl up on an
Elbow with the mussels and write
Poetry:
Rather, all the buses have driven away.
School has gotten older,
But there is a miracle: My friends return,
Gamboling, showing teeth
With caskets full of Mexican fireworks,
These spinning Hebrews how they play,
Each one pretending not to see my scars.
They are very honorary,
And they go about me and set up,
Tapping overhead and down beneath.
They seem to be in a great cloudy room,
And once set up the sea comes to us
Like a woman all rolled up
Which we smoke with bright gas-lit eyes,
And we laugh and play,
Not pretending to know a thing about her
And the sea smokes from out lips,
Each wave scissoring upon the next line,
Waxen legs frothing clear out
Of a blue mangrove in its shanty cabaret.