For A Full Blown Christmas Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In fine philosophies the souls retreat and
Make love to the shadows beneath the broken down
School buses- I was there many times,
And I don’t even know the words for today’s vocabularies,
And maybe I will never make love to you again,
Alma,
Because you are trying to be satisfied by your regular man:
How his eyes are even darker than mine,
But not quite as dark as the anxious nights he has taken to you
And across the frontera and the bosque where the mariposas
Are multiplying only to die:
And you will never read this, won’t you Alma,
Because you’ve had enough of the deficiencies of my playrooms
Of model boats and crinkled airplanes:
So now you are only waiting for a full blown Christmas
As he lays down beside you and gives you duplicitous propositions
For marriage.