Elbows Of Memory Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The fireworks were over
Whence they were barking for a Chinese Christmas
Or a Chinese New Years:
And my brother in law's dog has finally collapsed at my feet:
A golden retriever named Bonnie
Too large for this apartment in Shanghai—
Can you believe, this place is worth more than a quarter of
A million dollars—
And all of the savings of my in-laws,
Just to provide for the trappings of a son
So that he can be married.

The sky is in stilettos. And I have been drinking $500 dollar
Chinese whine, usually only drunken by officials—
I have lost another tooth and gained a belly;
But when I take my kids through Century Park,
Dozens of Chinese families exclaim,
"Jin piel-yell"—or 'extraordinarily beautiful, '
However they might say it.

Now, three years ago, I lost a teaching job in a public
Highschool—as I was trying to reclaim the ghosts of the girlfriends who
Were never quite aware of me:
The beautiful girls who I let haunt myself—
A valentines of ghost ships of so many castaways' memories

But I don't love them anymore,
And I don't write poetry—
I just get lost at the elbows, and when I return—
Milky eyed,
I get to enjoy them all so thoroughly, equally—

My children in the space of my heart—
Captivated before my eyes:
They have done away with my habit for muses—
They reward me with all and both of their prizes—

And the sun looks up at the clouds and smiles,
And the cars peruse the roads,
Will the alligators fawn—
Examining something that has been lost for some while- -

The smoke echoes up from the fireworks,
And the shadows hang on, clouding to their elbows of memory.