The Afternoon's Swimming Pool Poem by Robert Rorabeck

With your spyglass,
Burn the hyper-active
Centipede-
Create the leaping
Energy that
Makes words dissapear.
Roll up the tinfoil
Into a crude bowl
And smoke your
Mother's weed
While masturbating
In the afternoon's
Swimming pool,
In the tall green
Grass
Whispering beside
The blue canal;
There prehistoric
Alligators swimming,
The hazy shadows
Which last forever
Eating the neighborhood's
Dogs,
Obscure reflections
Of a girl you once
Knew
Casually, ten years
Ago,
Staring up at you....