The Searchers Poem by Robert Rorabeck

How painful it is to keep riding these words,
Like a stupid chimpanzee trying to figure out equations
It can’t possibly understand, those cold avenues
Walked in deadly night that might somehow rise
Up into her sun, and the golden key stretched out,
Like a fingerprint and her palm, laid there, open—
With the right word she will allow you to kiss it,
The secret equation which will unlock the chests of
Her eyes to flutter and to look upon you her love now
Realized, when all the cold marble sinks and the
Bitter world melts filling the sea with you and her
To stretched on infinitely, the sun casting down
A net of a million points, destroying the aching need
To touch another human being in permanence,
For that is done, and the word that you found,
The perfect fit, has joined you to her with eyes
And lips that never stray.