Into A Different Color Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I smell
Soda pop and dirt, and this is how I
Even struck out
On an empty lot, pop-empty:
Moving down from the south,
Almost drenched by the sea:
Look at my new house following her through
The shadows,
Like an empty shell wishing it had some
Amphibian meat in it to do the crawl;
And bleached tables smell like math,
And the reason why the sky is blue is because
It was wounded long ago when the older
Gods were killed,
And she took over and played soccer after
School,
And kissed the boys who didn’t know how
To play any instruments:
They were too proud and
Beefy,
And they hold flags and make it almost
All the way across the field before really dying
Into a different color
Than what she bleeds.