Roses In The Abscesses Of Concrete Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Let us try hard to remember
The roots that we have enjoyed:
My parents bring a five foot Christmas tree
From Miami,
The waves beckon like Christians underneath the clouds.
My father in law is dying in Shanghai,
And I haven't written for a month-
The days come and come
in their naked combs- no one I can remember
Remembers my name,
But I sell things in the anonymous shoals-
The traffic continues, loudly,
And made of sepia's hues.
Girls I remember loving are taking other mens' cues-
And I pass along, skeletons and giant squid silhouetted
In the sky- children come and go every day
in and out of schools-
I saw you going the other way-
I thought I had forgotten how to write you name-
But I am drinking rum in crepuscule- my wife
Admonishes my name-
I scribble like roses choking in the abscesses of
Concrete, I almost remember you.