The Baseball Diamonds Of Your Backyards Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Vespers in the early morning while the bartenders yawn,
And the crawdads flash underneath the oaken
Driftwood- maybe you’ve thrown your favorite vanity outside
The window at this time of early morning,
And the ghosts kiss the lips of their favorite fire fighters
Like serpents coiling around the broken glass of the gutter-
And you go home alone in the blooming darkness
To a trailer park or something else that will easily disappear
In any number of natural catastrophes,
And you lie down and close your eyes and thinking about
Any number of your favorite friends while the paint
Dries on your apartment- and the ruby eyes of sleepless
Alligators begin to light up for the school boys across
The baseball diamonds of your backyards