The Best Ways To Pretend Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Two young children on a fence with a
Fox,
While their mother is waking up somewhere else—
In some other bedroom,
Or in the grottos where candles still keep for
The birthdays she doesn't care to have,
And I am on the road to my lighthouse—
While I am forgetting all of the other parts of
Speech,
How to make kaleidoscopes for her out of
The dreams of my wrists,
As the high schools surrounding us are overcome
With the dire aspects of werewolves who
Need the moonlight of the halls—
Cheerleaders gossiping around the water fountains,
Like hummingbirds and eagles around the
Cathedrals of outdoor waterfalls—
Until all of their adolescent dictions are drowned
Out by the séances of the brightest stars—
And they remain there after the echoes have fallen
Away down the sides of an earth that needs no
Definition—
The failure of my art lighting off fireworks in
The driveway, waiting for the soft breasts and
Fried chicken of the ambivalent housewives to
Drive up to me, delivering soap operas
And the eyes of Disney World which always seem
To find the best ways to pretend at surviving.