To The Tomorrows Further Away Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In the object of full disclosure,
I’ve always been attracted to you, Amanda:
Though I can barely remember you from middle school.
I remember John McGlaughlin had Nirvana’s Nevermind
CD, and S- - was the only one who could
Best me at four-square; and I really had a think for her,
And now she’s with a hyphened last name and even more
Than a frequent lover, and wine shop in Colorado:
But even more than that, I’ve had a thing for Erin,
For Erin: but we were all in Latin class together, now she’s
A waitress in Gainesville still, and I might even be going up there
To start a Ph.D., (only though when I applied to the school
I think I miss-spelled P.H, D, or something to the fact of that
Case) .... But those were so many days ago, and I spent my afternoons
Farting in front of the television and listening to the lions roar
Down the street under a heliotrope sky. Now, Amanda, I am
Thinking of writing another novel, and I have a vague idea,
Even while I wait for word from a literary agent about another
Novel, even as I imagine you in your big open house in
Wellington- like your lover, affluent and well lit and covered with
Your dew in the morning: Oh well, these things I have a tendency
To say when I wake up in the morning and raising my head like
Chanticleer, looking out into the neighborhood and imagine the
Most fabulous storms. So now, even if I am shot, and vanquished by
Thuggish conquistadors, it won’t even matter, because I’ve already
Written enough to in most ways justify what I’ve had to say for myself:
And come morning, I will have more to say, even as I think of skipping
Out of class with Jordan and tightrope walking across the corrugations
Irrigating the canal. Maybe I love you, and yet there are so many things
I’ve seen you wouldn’t even imagine. Your neighborhood is affluent
But unimaginative, even while you are a genius, I suppose, and you
Put off a beautifully ridiculous light self-illuminant in your church,
And I would like to give you a Christmas tree and lie with you in
A crèche for awhile, and put of tomorrow, and put off the greater
Persuasions awful gravity gives even more to the tomorrows
Further away.