Coming Up Going Down Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I’ve seen you now,
Your mystery,
I’ve summited and found out your
Elevation,
Through my proficient scars,
I junked your cars,
And took accurate triangulations:
Smelled your lingerie like prayer-flags,
Whipping reverentially in
Your laundry room
Underneath your gods
Where you keep yourself
When you are falling asleep;
And as a favor to you, I went back outside
Wet, and on the take,
I mowed your grass,
I cut you a break: and smiled, and smiled,
But took no pictures
What I learned in your eerie elevations,
Manicures above tree line
Where lightning strikes become especially
Dangerous; it
Was all incredibly beautiful, you belong on
The cover of magazines;
And what I took from you,
I couldn’t take from teachers.