Womb of a coiling rattlesnake,
Pregnancies of why she looks up at
The sky lazily
And doesn’t care if anything
Becomes resolved—
In her delusions, little girls skip out
Of school
And show their dresses to the wind—
The highway is going by her on both
Sides,
Taking things away which belong to
No one—
The golden spheres dance in the
Heat like nymphs
And the sun rolls across the cargo
Vans,
As little boys, lighting off their
Fireworks
About the mailboxes
Surely are the mirages of another world.
Robert Rorabeck
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-mirages-of-another-world/
