In The Pages Of Her World Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I’ve seen her pictures again
Beneath the torpid palms.
She does not know she is smiling at me,
Or that she is the sea and the east
Upon which the sun opens,
And cooks the smells from the lips of the tide,
Which reminds me of childhood, noon, and midnights,
Nor does she care at all,
For life is too painless,
And all so fast, and the hands of the mammals
Are running along her feeling her up:
She is a photo album of sexy smiles,
And life is so fine,
Like another sip of rum,
And then stick em’ up, baby,
Because the ride is just beginning,
But turn the beautiful page,
And watch the butterfly recede in the
Torn petal-wings of old age,
Just a second
And it is almost done....
Nothing more than a memory in the yard.

But it is all right,
Because she is still smiling,
And she should smile forever....
In the pages of her world.