Into My Soft And Anonymous World Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Alma, I spent my day away from you:
You called me three times, it seems- and would have called me once
More, except your man had both of your cars,
And he was picking you up from work: so you couldn’t call me:
But I leapt towards you whenever I could, like a firework wanting a
Special purpose,
Into the direction of its pretty young muse: and I though of how all of
This daylight made its festivities upon you;
And I remembered you told me not to drink today, but look at what
I am doing, disappointing you while you sleep with
Heidi:
While I sleep in my bachelorhood, calling for you through all of my
Licorice and scars, with no children to sleep with myself;
But I remain here, praying for whatever I can:
Failing eventually, like something who thought itself beautiful
Really realizing what it was,
And burning down into the grass, nothing more that the hair lip
Of a cenotaph of ash, still hoping for you,
Eyed by rattlesnakes and grasshoppers, like a paper airplane
Who once desired to make love with the moon who still has hopes
Of finding you here tomorrow, and wetting the wings of your lips
Down into my soft and anonymous world.