The Sweet And Innocently Romantic Avenues Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Recoiling in the fairytales who promised to no longer
To share their lips,
I drink to myself and do pushups:
I listen to the rain that is pushing in kittens into the landscaping:
Kittens who will never know a thing of firemen or even the captains
And pilots of airplanes:
While my mother sleeps with my father in New Mexico:
While my mother was a student pilot before our house almost burned
And it was so close to here,
Alma; it was almost on the same road, it was so close to us,
And the major avenues of kidnappers:
And I have slipped outside again without even moving:
To kiss and bless the lucky rabbits who along with the spikenard in
The rock garden are always bleeding like the first protuberances of
Virgins;
Of the sweet and innocently romantic avenues by which neither I nor
You may love again.