Nevermore Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Alma goes to the flea market to fix her gold,
And I want to buy us matching Virginsitas, even if she
Doesn’t want to make love to me
Anymore, because she is feeling guilty, even though we’ve
Never done it on my eighty five year old floor;
And I love the old monarchs who so long ago only existed
For a season,
And I love the old airplanes who once existed but never
For a reason,
And if there are clouds in the sky, then perhaps they are
Basking over the sea,
Who is sashaying her skirts of waves right up to my door,
While all of the animals sleep at the zoo where we once kissed-
Next to the aquatic cages of endangered bliss,
Where probably we will again kiss nevermore.