To Which Even Time Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I want to have school buses and better fun:
I want the day to leap up and lick my hand;
So that every river is her eyes in amusement,
Meeting at forks like
Church dinners, like ways to do math;
And her nonsense should cover up the silence
Of cemeteries,
So even though her mouth isn’t there, it is all
Around me,
Mouthing off, doing its best to make friends-
We go to our amusements together now.
We build a house in the woods and shoot all the
Indians even though they weren’t but
Bringing coffee cake like fat warm centipedes,
And in a millennium it will all be a Laundromat
With ancient arcades,
And ways to jog and amuse with her there,
But I can’t wait that long.
I want to French kiss her right now- I haven’t French
Kissed a woman like my dogs in nigh a decade,
Since there were warm pirates whose warm and topless
Maidens got their busts sizzled by candle wax
Dripping from the nobby,
Corked beards: Even though beautiful women come into
My tent every day,
I don’t know who they are:
I can only want to know one woman at a time,
And you are so far away,
When you are already saturated by the monsoons, the
Pregnant bellies of snow clouds that gather around your
Mountain and dropp their unique weather over the
Hoods of race cars,
While you and your family are tranquil, having well imbibed
Those blue spirits I have sent to you,
To which even time has known no sword or talisman that
Can kill.