Their Naked Lights Poem by Robert Rorabeck

They made their invention like feeding
Apples to their children:
A soft boy and girl lost in the forest filled by
The names they had given them—
And their minds in a curl, like weeds up from
Graveyards,
Or the similar stuff—like shell-fish made of
Glass in a museum:
And the sea that wasn’t there persuading them
To likemindedly dream of
The Ferris wheels casting their naked lights into
The impoverished trailer parks—as if
To say, come look at me: spend your last dollar
Bill to remember the cretinisms of my midway:
Now that I am gone, and you are with
Another love.