This Childish Ride Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I once read off entire auctions to amber cemeteries,
Sitting with the vanquished armies and calcifying judges;
How so, these are the things of the past- Which the grass
Transmogrifies picnicking in shade and dabbed early light,
So that I could harangue you from my begrudging place,
What betided the boiling motorways and the seesawing lovers-
The places where failed business men go to kiss metal hollowly,
So you sit upon the bones of his galloping thigh, jarred, and grin to
Have seen me so far away, so far away beneath the hemming sky,
Each cloud a gathered stone all in the proximity of rivers of
Airplanes- they hope to reach their summits by time;
But I am waving goodbye, for I have no more money
To motivate this childish ride....