The Exasperations Of A Ferris Wheel Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Into those actions dancing—youthfulness—
Full bodied—torso of still yawning grass
Spindles around the exasperations of a Ferris
Wheel,
Needing your art down a highway
Going up to Saint Augustine:
My hand in my own yard, and what lies beneath her:
Sea shells bivouacked in the road:
It all seems to be a dream—after my sisters have
Grown up,
And my muse is married—carried away by
Predators:
She lives across the way, and the moon covers
Her, stealing the light that pretends to be hers.