Like Postcards Of Our Romances Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If I haven’t seen snow falling over empty parking lots
How can I become a habitual prairie for your séances
After I have given all of my father money
And all of my mother good wishes-
The lions are roaming free in the Colorado, and the cars
Will not start- In fact they have no need to
And there is no better time than now to sit with me
Before an empty forest where the insects are trying
To breathe still nakedly, repeating their own
Skins down her savage and bluish dresses:
That they too have come up from the fires the houses of
Tourists have stolen- and they wait for you like crystals
In the naked armpits of empty parks
As the moonlight sparkles down from the mountains
Like postcards of our romances
Or something you can buy without taking any time to
Think about it.