Something That Can Never Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Nothing good tonight- nothing on the move,
But the emotionless traffic,
So I am ready to go to sleep and thankfully for
Awhile die:
Each word a spittoon in a nature park,
Little kids smoking grass who stare like the undecided
Tide,
Who have better thoughts than me, because their
Dreams are yet unreal,
Their words already young and happening at a steady
Clip,
Their professors and kindergarten teachers yet
Effective:
Feral girls so beautiful and outlawed, the unpried
Mollusks in banqueted in sorority on the basalt rock,
The yet ripe airplanes rippling on their silken stalks:
And the wind just blows softly enough to muff
Their hair,
Never daring to take away their desired wish
And hand it over to the fates;
For it is something that can never be real.