Like The Spirits She Enjoys Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Wherever I am these rainbows make me
Loopy,
The contraptions through the sea the mermaids
Are working,
Churning caesuras like cotton candy:
And I will die, I will die,
But I have looked into the sad blue eyes
Of a woman of another man,
And my words have failed her, because I
Am no good at baseball, and the flowers I meant to
Give to her were stolen from her sister’s grave;
She has gotten most everything I could not steal for
Her, and she is doing fine,
And in some indescribable rhythms through a night
Enjoyed with my dogs’ similarly dreaming,
I search for her in the only ways better left indescribed,
Just another swimmer in the tourney of boys who
I know are looking for her even now:
Jousting, pillow-fighting,
Because no one forgets how she threw to them in
High school without even looking,
How she could make me fill up an entire page alone
In my room while all of South Florida was raining;
And I could go out and look for her,
But I’d have to buy new clothes-
I could begin to tramp my souls, and kill whatever dragons
Are leftover, though I’m sure the braver fools are
Already halfway there; and her eyes are beautiful,
And lonely,
Like blue candles under the weeping shadows of
Her mountains, pooling like the spirits she enjoys.