That Other World Poem by Robert Rorabeck

It doesn’t feel good to be without
A truck,
A means to get to Christmas and line the hills
All ready filigreed with Spanish horsemen or the
Legions of Mexico
Passing through the turnstiles of the frontera;
But it feels okay if I cannot teach,
Or make it around the recalcitrance so far out of
Reach,
For the beauty goes unnoticed out of eye,
Growing under the march of the adolescent
Fanfare,
Until all of that sudden she unfurls her head all broached
With silver-green emblems,
And smiling seems to remember her grandmother from
That other world.