Leaping Blurs Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I’ll be dead
Before I’m handsome

Before my parents know,
The sea will believe me,

Some girl in Oregon
Used to have a crush on me,

Now shore makes love
To wings and wind,

In the classrooms of summer school,
I waited for the teacher to call on me,

And when the jokes went outside
To smoke, I sat where I was and wondered

If she might turn to me and
We could laugh over Romeo and Juliet,

The girl who is married with a polished
Named, a child,

Who I do not know, perhaps she
Lives in Loxahatchee, on an alphabetical road,

And works at the cake factories,
And makes love while drinking the nameless absence

The people and places who come and go,
Lining the highways like leaping blurs.