In All Of This World Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Nights slip away- they peel according to reason;
That is just what they do,
Like stewardesses slipping out of their shoes after long,
Leaping shifts;
And I am doing all of this right now for you,
Alma,
Because I took a mental picture of you before I left for work this
Morning,
And your body swayed next to my body like a brown
Censer,
And we took a test together, and your eyes were like pregnant
Butterflies:
Really pregnant and down deep in the deepest forests of Mexico:
Your eyes swam and swung across my body,
And after that you went to church, while the flowers bloom all around
Your cathedrals,
And there was never any prettier girl in all of this world.