That Tomorrow The Day Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Nourishing the void of sweet, sweet hobos:
The rimy bliss down by the crocodiles- overusing the
Feral, speechless steps:
And passing the bottle, ringing in the candle lights
Of ambulances passing insouciantly by:
Tiny Mexican hands of my beloved: my alma, cleaning all of
The strawberries,
And the blueberries, and doing all of her good work while
The sun goes around:
Being visited by her bad man today who soon exited:
And I was there, rhyming down, rhyming down
Like concrete shedding tears-
Pulling myself up again, forgetting myself in the liaisons
Of missing affairs,
And then trying to do good work for her before the midnight
Of my day off:
Getting the word out to nobody in luckless symphony
Resting assured that tomorrow the day will whiny blindingly
And my beloved will rise with them and
Charge, and charge, and charge.