Treasure Island

Robert Rorabeck

(04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Histories That Are Yet To Come

Cars pool into Colorado,
Backing up for ice-cream and wine, you know:
Cars pool into Colorado like diamonds around her neck,
Like blushing baseball players in an organized
Wreck through wolf pass and then up through the collegiate
That is your backyard, Sharon, all the little hotels I did sleep in
While climbing in Buena Vista,
And you were already well set down your way huffing
Into Colorado Springs,
Like a miner with snow shoes, tossing your hair and counting your
Blowing ordinary boys away: The traffic stands up for you,
It waits for you, because these are educated tourists who know the
Ends and outs of science museums: How Nicola Tesla sensed you
Out, that you should be there one day underneath the highest
Race tracks in the world:
That you should float up to the very golden foam in which my mother
Was born; and forever celibate, not unlike myself,
He should create electricity for you and run it up and down the street,
And they should have festivals of the dead while you ancestors
Were but teething;
And somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that the world would
Glow intelligently for you, just as I do now,
Even though I am just the premature historian for the greatnesses of your
Histories that are yet to come.

Submitted: Tuesday, April 13, 2010
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