The Goblins That Dance Poem by Robert Rorabeck

They say this thing to
The world of
Many lovers who are
Just getting up
Now that in this
Neighborhood is not
Anywhere to believe
In-
The ghosts never find
Their love-
The immature Chinamen
Are still smoking in
Their stalls-
The lightning is waiting
For the goblins that
Dance-
Your father is waiting for
Your mother across
The canal-
And the woman you love
Sleeps withouth any breath
While you get drunk
In the arms of a
Butterfly that has
Forgotten all of the
Ways to love-