Like A Slick Goddess Over The Last Pages Of The Earth Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In webs of disregard
She paints me the color blue:
You should see me.
I don’t even belong this way,
Because it is the purest thing
Just like the virgin butterfly,
And I am all choked up,
And the sororities are drinking their
Lemonade and beer,
And practicing their solicitous weeps
And giggles,
While polishing off entire bottles
Swiped from the pregnant sommelier.
But she has already gone away into
His arms,
Like a tattooed Polynesian
Thoroughly domesticated-
That is where she is going with those
Great breasts,
And even greater calves,
Walking like a slick goddess over the
Last pages of the Earth.
I hold my breath, my heart ululating
In the immense sunshine,
Hoping that she will turn my way one last
Time,
With the smile of auburn liquor,
And her eyes like hungry sea creatures swaying in
The brightest reaches;
But that is not what she does.