By Laying Our Courting Eyes Back And Forth Upon Us Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Terse lips, though soft, say nothing,
Such pensive sadness;
And if they saw me, adjoined to the senses of
Speedless boats;
They would not smile, but they would love,
Quiet and unmystified,
A good exegesis for a young and leggy grandmother;
And if you came my way
While the grave was still yawning its yarded lay,
We could quietly spread the blood of
Roses between us,
And there would be no football teams or switching
Sides;
I grab you with my keen mind, my well tuned and
Inebriate instrument,
My drunken sword and I’d put you like a cannon along my
Copper broadside;
I’d explore you and buy you a double wide to stash
Between the splintered wings of
Orange groves and commercial aeroplanes;
And I’d dress you up every night as my stewardess and
I’d undress you just the same,
And drink with my tongue the salty mercury of your
Hallucinatory compass;
And we would not starve, with sweet shopping malls of
Children to feed us,
But we wouldn’t say and think; we’d buy and sell each
Selection of ourselves we wanted using absolute
Telepathy,
And we’d play tennis out on a greater teal esplanade just
By laying our courting eyes back and forth upon us.