Now Is Another Time Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I have a hard time moving through the day,
Sharon;
So I sing to you between my teeth, between my eyes:
This evening or the next, as always, you will be my sick muse,
Because that is how I borrowed you,
While you let suckle the daughter of another man, while
You live like a candle burning in those
August mountains; and if you were to move nearer towards me,
As I know you should; it would do us no good:
Because my mind is made up at the movies, and I am not beautiful,
Though I am almost beautiful: A woman even more beautiful
Than you, Sharon, has almost loved me,
But she has not loved me, though she is the only woman I have ever
Known to be more beautiful than you;
And I can still settle for you, Sharon, and I can place your daughter
In a very expensive crib stolen for her off of antique row, which
Is now my backyard;
And I am ancient, Sharon; and I have been up and down in the neighborhood
Of most of your mountains, even more than you should know;
And I am very sorry that you have a bruised eyeball,
But it is really what you deserve for making love to other men than I,
And marrying them, and maybe even loving them- I don’t know:
All I know is that it is very easy to play-defend the Alamo from my quiet
New home, and if I step outside my door, I can jack-off
Straight into the sea, or I can get drunk and ride my cheap bicycle straight
Into her, and you will never feel a thing, Sharon:
I can light off fireworks for you all day long- and I can skip a school for
You in which I have never belonged: Sharon, Sharon,
I have breathed like a goldfish won for you, and I have closed my eyed
And perceived being with you, a knight in your court of three days,
Sharon; but now all the random flowers are blooming for your carillon,
Sharon; and I believe I have made a mistake, because I am not certain what
That is, or who you are; but the graveyards I have been in have
Been beautiful, Sharon- And now is another time for me to move on….