Soul Of Mexico Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Daydreams of airplanes
Dredges in unison: and then while
Walking up, we are all in
Mexico-
Like virgins across the frontera
With blood in their skirts:
And maybe by the tenth grade
You were making love,
And holding out by the waterfronts
While the terrapins and
Giant African
Tortoises were making love
Ambivalently underneath
The broken down school buses-
While the rest of your class was
Having lunch
And the ruins held out ambivalently
As if starting by themselves,
Turning around in the
Droughts of nothing by
My own hands, and the
First muses of my love, as you wre
Returned home,
Ambivalently love struck;
Alma without a soul-
When did you first make love to him;
When did you first come home to
Me;
My Alma, and my soul of Mexico.