Electricity Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I try not to worry about things,
And I day dream:
The trucks come, and the trucks go:
Delivering to graveyards through the f%cking snow,
You know;
And what your name is the pain of my bleeding fingers,
Your skin on my mind a blind man trying to build
A house;
And I just keep at it for you in curious and pitiful ways:
Snow white is in her tree fort
Being propositioned by alligators;
And everything about my body is warm and mostly
Celibate;
And I don’t want to live without you:
I will just keep on getting prettier through the
Alligator Juniper:
The buses have wings and their own segregations of sky:
We all die into each other,
And sing sky-shanties; and I know you have a lover
And four children;
And I think I know that I shall see you again,
Before I die; but oh how tonight he is making love to you
In the saw grass estuaries where the trucks are loading up;
And how many boys do you have other than I who
Have rounded the bases through your sweet figments of
Sky;
And lying on your back counting the stars, the world is a figment
Of your imagination;
And I wanted to touch myself while the terrapin shot away;
And I invented electricity as I thought upon you today.