How To Fly Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Bruised around this new eye and not looking
Good,
But when have I ever…. Really;
And I never learned to surf.
I got lapped by the black boy when I tried out for
Long distance running,
Didn’t I,
But I still loved to jog alone,
Under the curiously voluptuous moon,
When there was no vultures,
But houses on stilts which went so far up
Across the fields of bamboo where the samurai first
Fought and rested,
And nothing was figured out or resolved,
But it kept them busy all day,
While we shared steaming cups of chi tea,
And once in awhile I tried to save a sweet victim of
Cholera or some other truly romantic disease
Like that.
You almost looked jaundiced as you went off first in
The early morning and then more and more later in the
Afternoon to see the men you preferred
Making love too,
And I wept like a truly purple flower,
And injected the tears of poppies and we both won Oscars
And learned how to fly.