If Your Eyes Ever Chose Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Part of the hemisphere is thick with
Rainbows,
Alma: and I can barely remember Colorado:
That is how far away I am from my last love,
And you said you didn’t want to hurt me even while you
Moved your car over and idled on my tomb:
And I went over to our aunt’s house and looked at her
Virgins and ate her sister’s
Cooking, but I couldn’t help thinking of your country,
Verdant and green and full of swing sets
And birds of prey:
And I want to propose to you atop that hill we went up
Together
Where there aren’t any hungry dogs that could carry you
Away,
Because you barely weigh little more than a hundred pounds,
But you know that I can anchor you and feel the
Vibrations of your kite string as you moan in the sun showers
Of my lucky bedroom Alma,
And the fish tale palm winnows like a waterfall of your favorite
Color right outside the open window
Where the airplanes are always leaping like well thrown
Stones or lucky amphibians if your lips ever moved off my
Water fountains and if your eyes ever chose to look that way.