Too Many Fanfares Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Another Monday in the sun—looking up and searching the
Airplanes leaping the burning everglades for the
Answers—and the answers come:
Daycare and kindergarten—and any words are poems
Spoken from the misinformed tulips of the young:
And you were there bright as an angel on a fieldtrip
From her tomb—
Were you as careless in the suburbia's insouciantly green
Labyrinths as a youth could become—
And the world without a joy came to rest into its undiscovered
Fantasies on the other side of the canal—
Words of joy lost to the mouths of dogs—and I know that even
Though you are taken for granted, a better place can
Be spoken to you— and as the morning calls through the
Daylights of its conquests, you will be made to come—
Harlequin of too many fanfares—a marionette of all too many young.