The Cenotaphs In The Waves Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Blown between the bottle and the bed,
Dog beside me,
Wife in the next room—what muses wait
For me other than these
Things which are as transparent as
Eerie honeymoons,
That I can remember from balconies
That looked out over some unknown
Dreams—
The busses turning around underneath
The lakes as if swimming butterflies—
And I drink wine from Mexico:
It is the last bottle I am supposed to
Drink before Mark Alexander is born;
And we looked at him today.
The technician said too much hair,
But he had a good heart—
I called him a hippy and the both of our
Scarred faces laughed,
And where was the moon hanging out
During this, I do not know—
But it was there—the same moon that
Hung over the entire neighborhood,
And my old muses in their new thoughts,
Their hearts beating around the corners—
And Romeo and Juliet there too—
Somewhere unseen,
Maybe like two marionettes trying to become
Real as they propositioned romance to
The cenotaphs in the waves.