To The Museums Or Breakfasts Poem by Robert Rorabeck

It is Christmas and the gods die from too much
Beauty,
I feel embarrassed from too much liquor, but the dawn
Knows that it will give itself to
Better loves,
While it will find me working again down deep in
Some little corner,
While there aren’t enough caracoles to get around,
And Alma will wipe the drool from
Her pretty mouth, and she will get up to leave her abolished
Man for the day,
And come nearer two me, like two electrons in an atom,
Dancing in mostly empty space,
But maybe I will take her to the beach tomorrow,
Or maybe I will make love to her: or maybe we’ll
Just f&ck, as the sexy swing sets wait for us
Closer to the infinity of nothing,
And we take a breather as she comes down, and changes
All together into her favorite color,
While I hold her hand, and think about all of the possibilities
Of where we might go together again
To the museums
Or breakfasts.