Tearless Joys Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Recoiled into a grotto and sleeping away its
Productive hours:
The way they say that he slipped away from her,
And made a love to her in another way in his own
Flowers;
As the storms rose up from the horns of sunken
Reindeer,
Just as from the armpits of the undercurrents of conquistadors:
Boiling like ants,
Fireworks for their unadulterated queen:
Meaning to mean something- acne in the grass, under the
Sun-
The pretty disfigurement of paper snowflakes, the games of
Plastic boys,
And the shallow graves of cowboys- rehearsing to the
Silly girls they love and love again,
Showing off to the heartbroken crocodiles, their make-believe
And tearless joys.