With Only Me Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Making their marks in red jackets,
Like burning paper flirting with the windy popcorn
Over the fair- and all of it without a home:
Comely though dejected and playing hooky while
All of their better fathers are working
Losing fingers down by the sawmill while they take their
Cane poles to the fishing hole
Where the selkies curse in the slow moving pinwheel dreams;
While at night she echoes that she only wants to
Be with him; and her brother is off to war
Where the mines evaporate bodies into wishes-
And she returns igniting her keys into her car-
Only wanting to be with him,
While the birds sing, and the fish swim, and she lays down
Again with only me.