Only For We To Feel Poem by Robert Rorabeck

It troubles me to think of you;
It is all the liquor the fish needs to keep swimming,
But his luck is not great enough to genuflect enough to the
Lion- the king whose mane is streaming;
And I have thought of you while traveling on my bicycle across
The low hanging bridges,
And I have tried to touch you through the ways of my genuine
Dysfunction,
Mostly by skipping school and laying my body low down near
The water moccasin across the easy grades of the meandering
Easements;
And I have not changed- and this is real: That I love you and
My love for you can never be filled, but it can be controlled
By the waves of your body pressing to my shore,
Drinking from the lips of my eager cannons, basking together
Spilled onto a table like something that isn’t real
Posing for the artist,
While those things that no longer matter continue traveling
Through the illusions that enter and exit through the doors that
Shall no longer have the privilege to feel the contours
Of our bodies: for now we are only for we to feel.