How It All Began Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I get so drunk I want to just go to sleep:
The last time I got so drunk,
I was a junior in high school and only had the busy
Information
Of roman candles coming off multicolored in my
Hand;
And leading up to that, and Spain, and afterwards,
Any combination of words could come,
Corruptible, still-born, homeless,
Or incredibly lucky, but they always came bursting for
You,
Even though I went to California alone and slept
With ghosts in abandoned train cars in high yellow
Grasses for two weeks,
And left alone;
And went to college, and lost myself-
I became more horrible and friendless- I still don’t
Have a telephone, as the airplanes leap with their important
Men,
Leading them where we are all headed as long as there
Is so much gas to pass beneath the stars while pretending
Not to notice them,
While down beneath if there is still magic on this pale sphere,
This esplanade which becomes less greener every day,
It resides in your dripping bosom which pools
Like a hidden spring in your womb
Where the wildlife of other men grow and you give those
Offspring names,
And love them- as if a stewardess on his ever skipping
Plane,
Though I love you- and will always love you just the same,
But that is no reason for naming names,
Or trying to recall how it all began.