Of Such Silly Bliss Poem by Robert Rorabeck

All of the brown ocelots on the beach and on the
Shore made eyes with the brown otters,
As they should- as it was what they were good for,
Even while I was failing math,
And skipping in the suburban glades and onto the arcs
Where my feet could leave the ground:
So far away from the immensities of the classrooms of eyes
And breathes,
I slept alone under the eaves and made up wishes for myself;
And Alma wasn’t even there then,
Even though there were then airplanes in the sky, and fish
In the sea;
But now Alma is here, and all day long she shines so close to
Me; but it has been too much of awhile since I have touched or
Tasted her flesh;
While the brown otters curl in the zoo, their habitats enmeshed
For the dumb and bounded eyes of the roofed tourists;
And they almost seemed to come together and once again to kiss,
But our eyes and lips had parted before the show was over,
As it seemed, Alma, they had enough of such silly bliss.