To Catch A Glimpse At The Sun Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Without air-conditioning, they can still make enigmas;
And I am growing fat because
I ate at the Chinese buffet again tonight; and then I jogged
In the wet grass where the crocodiles fart
And now the souls of me feet look like exposed brains;
And I am still alone and waiting to fill a hotel room with my body
And a female’s body that I should know:
All of these females in the world doing the same things that the
Males do, getting up and lying down:
And going on quests:
One female for me under the street lights of the Church,
All the best ones educated and spoken for, sucking thumbs of their
Favorite holidays;
Or all of the best ones already so far up into the air, serving drinks,
Looking down at the jigsaw puzzles that are Alma’s favorite color
Interspersed with blue;
And the fact that most of the species lives in the oceans
Lessens my chances with the world:
All of those layers of dead grandmothers and whales wishes away into
The bric-a-brac of séances,
My faces getting older and following behind the best of these women
Like their wedding tresses, like the long tails of a comet who throws
Her bouquets away without even looking as she continues onward
Breathlessly, giddily skipping to catch a glimpse at the sun.