Impermanence Of Stone Butterflies Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Impermanence of stone butterflies,
This another night puts its reasons to my lips,
And there are relatives in their graves:
I don’t know where grandfather is buried,
But I know how to get to Disney World; and I have
My ritual put to work by the light of day,
That uncommon light like a sea of light shining on
All of this species- This mobile of tailless masses,
And what does it mean, but it is so easy to ask that;
It is so easy to pretend to perceive the mundane,
But I am just trying to impress the opposition of my
Species: I am doing the same thing as baseball players,
Principals, and astronaughts;
I am trying to dress up for her in the park, to dress her
Down;
And I have been drinking my liquor and dreaming of
Shaving my head, of being a husband to Diana who doesn’t
Love me,
But loves her homeless captains, and how long will it last:
Will there be similar fairies in the morning,
Soliciting over the parks and the avenues where the serene
Cars drive; the little lights in the grottos of witchcraft,
The little trails she bleeds, the perfume of her footsteps;
And that is why I get drunk, and don’t have a family:
I am waiting for something that cannot happen:
I am waiting to buy a house, and become the ghost of her love,
The memory of her sweet flower plucked before it
Could open and given to its cartoon mouse.