Something Like Tears Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The sound of your fellows sound very fine
On the wharf- they are holding their heads up as
They swim,
And looking across the entire pueblo- They are looking
For the working girl;
She is already asleep beneath the windmills,
The tangled roses- and there are no more heroes:
They have forgotten how to walk:
They come wobbling in the shoals. They lie on their
Sides and say the things they can remember underneath
The sun to say to her. They will not stay very long,
If they evaporate they will become gun powder:
They will become gun powder,
And her heroes will find her and give her new children:
She will vanish with them into the town,
Away from her courageous boys- they know, as they
Are going, she will vanish anyways-
And so they are like tinsel strung upon a marvelous
Runway- aware of their quick mortality,
Their scales shed and glazed upon to rocks
That seem to resemble something like tears.