Robert Rorabeck

Veteran Poet - 1,848 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

My Best Friend - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I swing more than the hour I am with you,
But tonight my lips don’t smell of rum while you
Meet with your husband and a friend in
A bar-
Egrets perch over you, but what are the shapes of
Egrets;
And when can I run away again, softly repeating
The mistakes of your empty branches,
While mother washes her face, and the old dogs
Cry because they have never seen your
Face as I have seen your face, or at least that is
My make-believe for why they should cry
When there is a storm of tinsel and the spit of kissing-
Balls over the Faberge castles, where lawyers are
Kissing their cohorts on senior fieldtrips all spread out
Through the unreal esplanades, the slender walks of
Their professional amusements;
If I should see you there in a chariot of your legs,
I would hold this breath for you, and wait long enough for
The oceans to change places with the clouds,
If to show you that I was not your prince; in fact meaning
More than the stations of the otherwise or any man,
As if this were a game of musical chairs held over from
Kindergarten, and we were the two seated last together,
Like a prince and his queen, or any other meaningless thing,
Except that I would like you to be my best friend.


Comments about My Best Friend by Robert Rorabeck

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Wednesday, February 3, 2010



[Report Error]