Closing In Colorado Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Girls in dormitories in Spain,
Religious girls,
In curls, who sigh in the rain:
They go to school in Spain.
Maybe they are near the sea,
The ancient terrapin where ghosts who
Have no home go to collect salt,
And I love my horses
And do not have enough time to watch
The beautiful girls swimming away
In short skirts,
Like tennis players,
Their bones as light and well-mended as
Drift-wood.
Where are they going; it is as if they can hear
The song I cannot hear,
While the sea bolsters the meatiest of storm
Clouds,
Like entire racks of ham, bloodied, dudgeoned,
Going up and up like Wedding Cakes
Circled by buzzards;
Like the gowns Sharon wore when she took the
Name of another man,
Outside near the river that eventually formed
The Grand Canyon, oh-ing and awing
While my snowflakes fell melting too high for
Her to know to care,
So by the time they touched her special picnic
They were only but a whisper upon her
Bare shoulders as she danced in the seeded grass
With the man who would soon bare children
By the upright womb that can always be found
Walking home after closing in Colorado.