Before They Can Even Take Care To Step Aside Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Empty alone in paganistic band-rooms;
But you know there is something about that
Which is not right,
Like these words the way they fret for me
In banished playgrounds overlooking the
Great lakes of catastrophe;
I should have bought a house, or told Diana
I loved her myself,
Sharon- but this is how it goes:
The people in wanton throws, picking up
Stray baseballs, the cats looking at them with
Glassy eyes- I suppose that like Mexicans,
They can really speak English,
Or they know so many ways through the weeping
Mangroves;
And I have done so much of this,
But what about time- what about recognition
And blue ribbons: Now main street is muddy,
And walks with her legs. She is going to the candy
Store, Sharon- with her husband, with her children;
Or she is going bowling,
While the mountains drool with all that lightning,
And put bullet holes into horses before they can
Even take care to step aside.