Like A Cenotaph To A High School Poem by Robert Rorabeck

All of the pleasantries
Of a studio in a drunken garden-
Having a honeymoon before
A marriage
And a woman in love with me
Who cannot see my scars
As the words roll through
The inebriated feeling of a skeleton-
Like a cenotaph to a high school
Where he could never seem to fit in-
And another evening lays down her cards
And goes to kiss the sailors in the
Movie theatre
That moves beside her like a pitted ark
And gives back to her all of the animals
She cannot see in the darkness,
Begging for things that last forever,
But in the morning will mean nothing to her.