Like A Knight Himself Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Oh, the black knuckles fought with orchids
Of the dwarves of semiprecious high school:
While I only thought of myself, and I curled that way:
And I got up late and I missed the bus:
And I floated down the avenues, and I touched myself while
Trusting the innuendos in the ransacked pornographies
Of the hallways where I was supposed to be
Learning algebra of calculus:
But while I was a lone, all terrapin and accordingly self-
Motivated,
The mariposas got really fat, and I learned to love the
Amphitheatres in graveyards of after hours:
When the night was all shot off and cenotaphs, and the baseball
Games were just what they really were,
And all of the runners had stopped running and all had become
So spent and so marvelous,
And the words themselves resounding in the cauldron of
A caracole: perhaps they killed some make-believe fathers in a
Bloodbath of holidays:
But what it was I won’t rightly ever know: all I know is I
Saw you jogging outside my cherry red car some day: some day
Erin, and I fell in love like fairy tale, like a knight himself:
And long ago: and far, far away.