The Bullfighters Who Walked Like Peacocks Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now I don’t even know that I am here,
Because all the girls have gone off over the hills on
Their hands and knees
Following the smoking guns;
And the sky isn’t the blue that you would know,
But the movie theatre was all mine:
It pantomimed my soul, and all I could think of
Was rain and fireworks,
And the sweet old times going away to school and
College,
And making it all the way to the tumbling sea between classes,
And getting drunk with dragons
Only so I could come back to those hallways,
Searching for your perfumed echoes
That whispered from the clays that were given form by
Your hands,
The same as some god mothered both of us from the gardens
Of the perfect muse,
Out into the open streets
Where the bullfighters walked like peacocks,
Not know what it was they were going to do.