Burning At Both Ends Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Home of kitty cats and blonde headed housewives,
I just want to be in the absolute darkness with all
These bandages and scars:
My heart needs a darkened table to survive;
And though the daily mothers are very beautiful,
They are as migratory and borderline
Eye candy:
I cannot get through the day without thinking about
You,
And the way you peel away through the night,
Listening to the bold crickets of your high circus
Night- and you’ve already married a better man without
A sliver of waste, who is more skilled at technical
Climbing,
But I still want to share bloody and rare cuts of meat
With you, if I should ever evolve and become a pugilistic
Journalist brave enough to climb the magical beanstalk
Of highways up to be with you in your swell shops
While the bilious lips of winter solstice finds no surcease,
And the paper crafts keeping piling up over the avalanche
Of wet clay you’ve forgotten to bake;
And even though our high schools are far away in another
Fairyland, we stave off the reintroduced empiricism of
Wolves by keeping our candles burning at both ends.