The Park Near The Cemetery Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If you want to have a friend,
I am still right here: homeless but seaworthy,
Unmade by the weather
And piled into my basic elements:
I sit in the park near the cemetery and imbibe by
Spirits;
And they come to me bosomy and warm,
Like other things that can metamorphosis,
And they whisper promises to me in the sun showers
In the afternoon,
And touch my body with other thoughts I neither
Try to believe or understand.