In Lue Of Something Else Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In Lue Of Something Else



Dove sail like gaudy Christmas cards between
The trees,
As my scars cast darker by the sun beside the
Swings and slide,
And the little men buried in the sand-
She drives like a rich person, she drives all day
Until she hit’s the ice,
And out of control she looks up and catches my
Sadness,
My sister fully graduated in cap and gown,
The disco ball reflecting nature’s imperfection
Or God’s sorrow, or just the mailboxes out front
Of all the yards,
The little red flags up in expectation or surrender.
She used to board her horse near here,
But that is sold and far away- The leaves are yellow
But not quite gold and next month she and her
Husband will be leaving for the phoenix desert,
But they are not ornithologists, not even that;
And as I hurry through the splicing complexions of
The yards, I think up these things, like greeting cards,
Little Capitalistic prayers I choose to give her in lue of
Money, when I go and save her from her disregard.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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