Just Fine Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The night is warm, humorous,
And you give me knew reasons to believe.
I have my grandmother’s old car now;
She is in the cemetery and asked
Me in her quiet ways to bring her flowers.
The aspens are getting ready to change,
Like chorus lines of juvenile girls giggling
As they blush ahead of the ballet;
And I want my words to be the colors of a revolutionary
Pallet, to help you remember your own art-
Do not recognize me, but cast me in your pool.
Grab your man hard around the lapels,
Kiss him in the ways which fabricate the houses
Of the past;
Put your hands on the clay again, remember the
Briar patches of my visage, where your trembling forensic
Shot and fumbled like waterspiders for awhile
Over the effluvious canal of terrapin and crocodile;
And if I fail you, it doesn’t matter,
All my words are fireworks shot into the dark for my
Lips alone- You are far away, hung over his chest like
A family crest- He provides, and soon I will be selling
Christmas trees in a dripping world,
And other girls will work and sweat, and maybe even read
My lines; further away then, breast feed your daughter,
Sell your wines- I know who you really are,
And it was good to have our bones caracole around one
Another, scribbling on desks in high school some many
Years ago; and if that is to be all, the elks bugle that it
Is just fine.