The Presents Of Every Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now I’ve seen you, supposing where I live,
In the diminished cul-de-sacs, amidst the forsaken
Ivies-
And weren’t you attending bar, again,
Caring nothing about me-
Turning me out into the cold shallows
Overlapping the banks,
And the jellyfish with their aquatic apiaries
Kissing in the churches of entangled masses
Through the jolly caesuras-
And their spinelessly coital monuments: there they
Are: another world told in the brainless sorority,
As the traffic pauses as if for the lights
Of a Christmas tree- only to go again,
Only to enjoy themselves once more- passing onward,
And opening the presents of every door.