The Abscent Minded Heart Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Gas tanks spill over with rum—Oh bright muse,
Bright starlight—
And lighthouses—if cars could only run on liquor:
Well then,
This is the body of your pledge—that he will becoming a home
To you again tomorrow—
And it doesn't matter how much money you owe me—
You will attribute to him again and again for so many tomorrows
Even if he never takes you to another amusement ride
In all of your life—and you equate him to all of the
Pestilent spheres of all of your cousins—
I plan to make of a study out of my garage—and if I cannot sleep,
I want you to buy me virulent if plastic roses:
And I want to die in the cathedrals where there are no fanfares:
I do not wish for any gilded coins—because this is the place
Where I tend to believe in or to inherent,
And you are forgetting me and growing further and further
Away from me—
The ocean next to your elbow is throwing up,
Trying so hard so that you will mention him: the bats fly down
And kiss the unicorns, and that becomes the most absolute
Abhorrence, or the closest thing you ever knew of love,
While my dogs echo me in what once were my bachelor's
Cathedrals- and then there becomes a time for this and
A time for that—
In the morning: bodies, cathedrals—and the absentminded
Heart of a feral cat.