Touch Down Poem by Robert Rorabeck

This smoke without reason I will and cannot
Save:
Like a panhandler of the fateful aphrodisiacs, I
Have discovered that it is the really evil people
That get more than lucky in this world.
As the fish swim backwards up and down, dumping
Their row on the slick backs of rounded
Stones
The dogs never stop to paw:
And I have been in love in my solitude: I have traveled
Alone up the wedding gowns of so many uninhibited
Mountains,
And I have wet myself alone after crepuscule,
And after midnight, after all of the middle class housewives
Had already gone down and down:
As Alma has gone down,
And the roads become easy and almost like fairytales,
And they do this to survive, but again because it feels good:
And the roads turn into themselves,
Hugging in their gypsum like grandmothers who are even
Still breathing,
And beyond them there are only the clouds who bring the
Exegesis of so many possibilities;
As if they were bringing my muses uninhibited to me
Even while I slept aboard airplanes that refused to ever,
Ever touch down.