The Chance Return Of A Princess Poem by Robert Rorabeck

You will get nothing from me,
But we can go out together and try to forgive
Each other through out the day:
Here the dogs are leaping over the fires
That I think your little boy has started,
Where his spokes were thrown into the pornographies,
And the dwarves rode the tortoises into
The cool shade underneath the broken down
School buses, and thought of her:
And though of her, while their insouciant mounts
Ate the orchids in the oil slicks
And happened to do exercises on the possibilities
Of Ganymede until at least school was
Over-
And the cheerleaders did pinwheels home, over
The bridges and the hidden prizes
Of the trolls, and then once again in
The cooled theatres of their bedrooms, took off
Themselves,
And wandered of the stranger flowers that use to
Grow in the penumbras of their poor childhoods,
While the toads sang pell-mell against the rebar,
Like princess lamenting the blindness of their senses,
Awaiting the chance return of a princess that had
Shot herself like a bottle rocket across the impassible
Canal.