In A Trailer Park Poem by Robert Rorabeck

We can paint the slash pines with fire
Running down from the mountains,
Chasing the coyotes and stirring them from
Their sleep:
We can even call up the bluest sirens in the
Sky
That wake up all of the Titans, disturbing them
From their wettest dreams of
Stewardesses,
And disturbing you from your classes too—
Divorcing you from your daydreams,
And make you run through the oils of one of
My grandmother's paintings above her
Shaggy carpet in a trailer park
Near the cemetery:
There you are, a call girl dispelled from the
Mountains,
And all of the trees terribly beautiful all around
You if they were not all on fire.