To Fairies Who Don'T Even Care Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Rediscovering the tickets that cannot hold out,
With everyday our Sunday:
The traffic and the sun down, the palm trees
Easy,
And evening kneeling towards the carport of houses:
Mothers drifted into rivers, or with their
Last breath escaped with our baby sisters from the fates
Of the canals:
The alligators there too: fat off the conquistadors;
The sugar cane burns:
The birds of prey nest, the bromeliads bloom,
The locusts slipping away from themselves in the jubilant
Pools and make love to fairies:
Make love to fairies who don’t even care.