Michael And Heidi Poem by Robert Rorabeck

At the warmed center of my being, I have a luscious pit
And it is singing through the dark and storminess; and it feels as if
I were not alone:
The words rejoin and they make eyes at one another just like blond-haired
And blue eyed toddlers in kindergarten;
And I can strut out very fine on Easter and look at the weather accumulating
Over the library or the post office,
And there can be things said to me if they get to me on time,
While the grownups sequester me and make me hear them out until it
Is dinner time;
And clothes pins can be used as pop guns in games of make-believe,
All beneath the Australian pines; and if I had better words, I wouldn’t
Have to use pornography: I could make you mine;
And the cars pile up and they bundle together and talk make-believe,
Far after everyone of the conquistadors has eaten themselves,
And yet the city survives; and the city has Erin’s eyes,
While I think of Alma for the first time, but for a very long time;
And her two children go out to sea, and never once do they
Have to think of me;
And I wonder what they will have to think about today or tomorrow
Through the choirs of their school yards and their churchyards
And under the protection of the Virgin of Guadalupe
In their forts of make-believe
Since they are both very beautiful: Michael and Heidi,
And they both don’t have to think of me.