Like The Sun Poem by Robert Rorabeck

How will it look if we get lost for a while
And areole the mountain,
And look for the shadows of our footsteps,
The disturbed berries that fall
To the mouths of archaeology,
Of the arrow heads that stick up like phalluses
Of a midnight of a Valentine's Day,
While I just worry about how I will return
To school on Monday—
As my wife sleeps two months away from
Giving birth to our first son—
The words leave my imagination like a disease
I cannot remember, like all of the highways
I've been across, or the women whom I have
Fancied that I have loved—
The places that seem to be inseparable from
The things we have done which we cannot
Mention—
Just as the truth revolves around the earth
Like the sun.