Misspelled Quinceanera Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I polished my floors while I thought of you
Tonight,
Alma:
And I did my very best: I drove by your house, but your
Car was gone:
Maybe you went like the tail end of a rainbow back to
Mexico,
But I have no fear that I cannot save you,
Alma: you are all of my art now, darling butterfly, mariposa;
And I only know so many Spanish words for
Savior,
But you can save me, and we can both fish on the night warden’s
Boat together,
We can laugh with fat Anibal: I can brush your hair and
Ask your to trust me while your sister has her
Quinceanera that I can’t even spell;
And then the night floods and I have a hard time remembering
The meaning of my pledges to you,
While I wonder if you smell the same for him as you do to
Me,
But I will never accuse you of being a witch:
I will always mistake you as being a flower, and I can save
You and your children and I can take you away:
Far, far away- the very same as the airplanes who are always leaping
So far above and away from me.