Christmas Trees Or Video Games Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Consumed upon the terraces of the
Ferris Wheels
That are turning from the evaporations under
Their streets:
Girls who have gone away never come again
To the same place—
Metamorphosis of cheap carnival into
A water wheel
Conquistadors lie down their granite crosses
To hear the whispered
Gossips of- and butterflies come and lay
Down beside the recesses where there
Once used to be fixed
Carnival games—
Where I once set the piece of my flesh,
Like the center of a kaleidoscope
Because some cat or
Some fox would have said it would make
Me rich,
But she didn't return—lost up into the
Castanets lit up like
Christmas trees or video games:
Only the waves returned, beating themselves
Like hungry beggars against the pedestals of
Bars and churches the same—