The Pinwheels Of Little Girls Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Strung out with feelings on the West coast
With the turtles in their huts
Moving along: look at the winos: the park of
The stars,
And the dead dogs who no longer go on weeping-
After dinner, the fish thrown into the street,
Strange plagiarisms where the little girls cannot
Breathe- the fisticuffs of wet kisses,
And everything else I never knew from Mexico:
Alma up in Ocala looking for horses,
Her children indoors, enjoying the air-condition and
Cartoons,
While all of the oceans are mobilized: the zoetropes
Spin flirting with windmills- the clouds cauldron
The sky, blowing through their maelstrom of
Wishes- perhaps strongly telling all of their secrets
To the pinwheels of little girls.