My Vagabonding Heart Poem by Robert Rorabeck

As dear as the monuments that once climbed
Up to look into your window,
I see you bathing as a little girl, as you put green on
Your body,
And the butterflies gasp their melodies, and then go onto you
To stamp in suicide
Across that brown architecture that travels everywhere beside
Your best man:
Maybe even once he breathed beside you in the dun valleys of
Kindergarten,
And that is why you are so far into love that
I cannot understand that you have tattooed that way,
And the roads curl around you like bouquets of water snakes,
And the sky turns up on its own and weeps over your bedroom,
Over which, Alma, my vagabonding heart drunken tramps,
And quakes.