So Much More Than Anyone Poem by Robert Rorabeck

When I look into the mirror,
My skeleton grins, lopsided, preferring
The left side: There are new scars like old men
Getting along the cheek bones, molting, things
Which draw the eyes of women who have gone
Through puberty, who bleed monthly and like
To climb atop successful men during that time:
Sometimes I will look them in the eye, like dun
Fires, like age-old misfits holding a blade between
Themselves, and in this way turn them away,
And drive them off me. I herd them up the cliffs where
The clouds are hanging like heavy lace, like opera
Singers expecting things for free. Anyway, cars
Collide, but the finer elements pass right through them,
And everyone moves away to help. The forecast is rain,
But so far I’ve done so much more than anyone.