The Common Means Of Adultery Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Land may be petting the tearful comb of the stars,
Lamenting her, perpetually trying to hold the hand that
Has become a shell;
Where its corrugations are beautiful as wayside landmarks,
But no real lover is at home;
And I have been to both coasts of Florida,
And put my feet into the Pacific over a decade ago the one
Night before I ran back to where I ran away from;
And tomorrow I want to sit with Kelly beside all of that
Useless and frightened motion, and say with her
How beautiful is that severe upheaval of cerulean adolescents
Which cast us both so far away,
Which made me love her from fifth grade on up through
Most of high school, which made her disagree:
I want to feed her strawberries, or at least bring them to her
Under the bridge in the rain;
I want to cloud in next to her, or touch her with my eyes
Floating above my silly fibrillations, the smoke signals of my
Usual organizations,
Forgetting all that we have taken unto ourselves and to
Remember again the sweet young detective novels we read
Apart while I pissed my pants and drooled over the parts of her
Backside other swifter footed men rounded the bases upon far sooner
Than me;
Or even now pretend she is the lost graveyard where all my derelict
Ancestors are buried, and put my hands upon them as if in Church,
Resurrecting them by the common means of adultery,
Which of course should never be allowed.