In The Yard I Knew As A Young Man Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I don’t know how you figure this- how you call
Me up buried in my weathers:
I don’t know how the light sounds nor feels around your
Shoulders,
But they are an orchard still breathing outside of
Disney World,
And I have so much free time to experience loneliness:
Possibilities unwrapping on the other side of
The world,
Like crickets pursuing the mermaids in their every changing
Cerulean changing rooms
Until they can finally back up into a grotto and make love
With the juvenile offspring of orange trees
Teasing them- and the world in the trance of a zoetrope
Filled with cypress trees
Who happen to be growing up in the yard I knew
As a young man.