Hundreds Of Thousands Of Years Ago Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Oh- yes, the night proceeds;
And it is a haughty night,
And not everything will succeed through it-
The wind tunnels I can only make it halfway
Through to Christmas-
I can’t even finish this thought-
And I want you as if I was Mark Twain cherishing
The cheapest tobaccos,
And now I have nothing left to sing- Maybe I am
Being rude,
Or maybe accept me as your king.
Right now I am letting the mosquitos drink my blood,
My scars, my chances,
But I am really wanting you-
Erin, or anything: I am not doing good- I’ve written
A book and I am homeless and no one cares,
And I wanted you for a thousand reasons hundreds of
Thousands of yesterdays ago,
But even in high school you were reintroducing me
To your newer me,
And I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror
When I skip classes and stole into things
Hundreds of thousands of years ago.