Rosy Bouquets Of Mars Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I've showed you whatever true
Love is, even if
I have misspelled you, I have come
Across you appreciating by yourself
In the foxglove theatres of
Our own delusions,
And what brighter epitaphs I can
Write for you,
I don't even know—
I am not smart enough to live forever,
Or to even survive the decade,
But I think about you like I
Think of Disney World or some other
Beautiful disease that has some absolute
Control of my mind—
Remembering the past summers
When they took down our swing-sets—
Even if it was the last time we had to breathe
Together—don't you remember how I held
You in the waves—and we pretended to
Be perfect—but into those times of
Imperfect echoes—I have still kept casting,
Like as if my cadaver was yet doing magic—
You have gone from table without any purpose,
While the world just spins and spins,
So unreachable from the red fingertips and
Rosy bouquets of Mars.