Again elevating, making love before a beach: <br />Levitating for helicopters who come primary colors <br />Before they excavate the swing-sets of <br />My childhood- the very amusements my mother pushed me <br />On close to three decades ago are finally being <br />Condemned- little recluse across the Palm Beaches, <br />Her sinister lips kissing the gods who live in the <br />Sky- While I ride my bicycle homeless, <br />And wind tares away the meanings of these heavens <br />As I strive to remember, and find her warm <br />Embrace in the claustrophobic midway of the <br />Carnivals forever escaping from the mortal wounds <br />Of this heart <br />Underneath a window of rocks where the ghosts <br />Of native Americans levitate, chanting my name.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-ghosts-of-native-americans/
