Everything You Will Ever Be Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I drink to airplanes when they fly so low
They should be barrettes in her hair,
And S- stands there.
She’s just won the game, but I’m all out of quarters
And I want to do the same;
And even tonight the teachers are fully engorged,
Touching themselves when they’d
Really want to touch the lord.
And tonight you look magnificent,
And you can keep running on for a very long time,
But the hike really isn’t transcendental unless it
Has a steeper grade;
My sister Rachelle is coming in two days.
She has a DMV from Colorado State,
And I want to look beautiful for her,
Because she is good proof that I am at least halfway to a
Genius;
And I have visions of you, even though I am not well:
I cannot pilot airplanes.
I just swing on the swings, S-:
E-:
I want to live forever. I am no good otherwise.
I need a good woman, one or two.
I want to live forever, I want to rob banks by thinking of you.
And your beautiful as I imagine you with your Tommy guns
Up against her pert breasts like babies out of Kalamazoo:
Do you really read this, sh%t, S-,
Do you really know how much I think of you:
All I want is a vision of you, like a Christmas tree in immaculate
Weather,
But it is just because you are so beautiful:
So many guys have wanted you, S-:
So many guys still want you, and you are married but that just
Makes my romance more romantic and heavier like the coats
Of the heavily sated lions.
Soon they will remember who you are, S-, and they will
Wake up and eat the hands of whoever is so careless to feed them.
They are hooligans like you were,
S-:
Don’t you remember how much of a hooligan you
Were,
S-:
How many hearts you’ve broken or destroyed;
And I just want to live forever in your divine entrains,
In you pagan penumbras;
And it is as if almost any word will suffice for the sacrificial
Knife,
The dirty nouns, S-, they are like nymphs,
S-:
They don’t care: they work by the hour, and your daughter
Is so utterly beautiful.
And your husband is beautiful.
And I just want to be your janitor after your sweet
Cadaver S-;
If I could; it is my only knowledge; and I don’t know what
I am doing,
Or where I’ve gone; or what flowers grow on these
Beautiful slopes,
But they are all I want S-:
S-, and I love everything you will ever be.