Let Her Know Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The city dissolves; the planes are played out; and I want to develop
A potbelly for Thanksgiving:
There are so many questions which I still need to ask Alma;
And I already love her children: Her children who are so carefree that
They can still smell the ghosts in their bedrooms,
And the rain comes like far away mothers, both soothing and frightening
Them;
And I hope to god that I never have to be with a white woman again,
Those petty whores try to claw their fingernails up the detritus of
A professional world:
I hope to a god I’ll never believe in to have Alma; and after all of this
Liquor wears off I’ll have to stare at my face alone again;
And I know that I will be selling fireworks and sleeping in celibate hotels
Save for Alma;
Alma in a week, or Alma right now, but certainly all my dogs will love
Me, even though I have done them tremendous harm;
And it is a good thing that I am not driving a car right now, and that there
Isn’t a mirror present:
I have a house waiting for me point two miles from the intercostals and
At the end of my month it will be mine and filled with my liquor as with my
Dreams;
As my mother comes in through the fiberglass door and says that it is
Really windy out there, but I am about to set out anyways;
Because Alma is very beautiful, and I am very eager to go ahead and let
Her know.