Like A Blue Marble Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Professors in their day dream of gloomy weather,
And these are excuses for them to read books in the library’s
Rookery:
And even I like sliding off my bicycle once in awhile
To go into the cool of a movie;
But my mind has a tendency to dally over you, to slip even
Further away:
And I put the dolls of you into the playrooms of wherever
I am, and I have fun over you:
Maybe I haven’t seen you in a decade, but what undying sport
You are:
Maybe it is that you only kissed my neck, or no part of my body
At all:
Maybe I just sat next to you during a pep rally before you got
Bored of watching me shoot pop rockets
Over the student parking lot; but being that I have no pride
At all,
I still am like a dying humming bird trying his best to imitate
The chesty pullulating of a song bird,
Going down into a mine where I picture you immortally perfected:
And I am up on a brightly lit stage with a harpoon stuck
Into my side, but do not chide me:
Haven’t you heard, scientists have found life miles beneath the artic
Ice, shrimp and palominos,
And the greatest bluest operas that I have been defining congratulated
By Frankenstein’s monster on his sojourns of ice-fishing:
And I have finally come to the surface like a marble cannon booming,
Like Ganymede or one of her lovely sisters,
I orbit you like a tiny moon,
Like a blue marble who is somehow impossibly winning whose imagine ripples unobtrusively
In your eyes, and thus I minisculely bellow.