Falling Down Poem by Robert Rorabeck

It feels okay like this—to know that we are
Going nowhere while the cities built up like
Permanent playgrounds
Around us, while she didn’t know if she loved us—
But it took her awhile, so she never forgave us—
The gravity like the sun occupying us on these
Rides, the four ways to find her, groping with our
Loins, whilst the seniors were graduating,
And my newborn son in his castanet was looking
Up the streams of heavens, hoping that it would
Be god who was falling down.