Just Too Kind To Say Goodbye Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I wished that your schoolyards would have opened up
Their eyes to know me,
Like an apiary where a friendly fire burns;
Its cathedrals of orange lips smacking the bushwhacking leaves
From the spare forests
Around the houses near the sea- like a fieldtrip that your
Son and your daughter went on, and both on their birthday:
While I stood and I watched them
And I caught the biggest kingfish of the day; but it was still
Not enough to save your heart from the families of
Its grave:
And I took to riding alongside cars, and to climbing up the
Roofs of your neighbors just to get a look into your
Backyard to see whatever it was that you and the devil
Were cooking;
And it was that you looked good from my point of view
That I was already coming down: but I got there too late:
The bank was already empty: the lions had already eaten
Their witches:
And you had left for Mexico for your operation, or to see
Your sister- in a place where there are never teardrops in the sky:
You wore your miniskirt that I had once or twice lifted
Like your flag of surrender; and you wore the gold
I had bought for you every time to say I loved you;
Alma- but you were just too kind to say goodbye.