Grandeurs Of Mountains Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Grandeurs of mountains in their most solemn of echoes:
I bought my rum today nearest the airplanes,
After I jogged and had a difficult time looking at my face in the
Rearview mirror,
After old memories came more clearly into view:
And right now I can put you into a severely opulent pool:
Alma, I can let you swim right here,
With your body as brown and as tremendous as the elephants who fly
With their ears,
Because they are spectacularly unreal, and yet they have so much
Unreal love:
And you can laugh at me, replacing my he’s with your j’s,
But it will be no less unreal:
I know you read these words that I give, just like at night the nocturnal
Song birds eat them the seeds that I scatter in the low branches
Around the trees of my house,
While your eyes slip away with your breath into his armpits,
While your parents pay the mortgage of your little sagebrush house;
But I can love you forever, Alma:
I can buy you a bicycle- I can buy you a canoe;
I can do anything for you Alma, but I cannot do as you wished,
And stop writing these songs for you.