The Dark Migrating Fairgrounds Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Every night I have to reintroduce myself again to
The somber dreams of unicorns traveling on their infinite quests;
And like your love, Alma, they aren’t even real, but they
Will go down forever even while the castles disappear;
And I was going to take a walk to the salvation army- and I wanted
To hold your hand at least halfway there while the traffic buzzed
And bumbled,
Even long after your two children had grown up and fed off your
Breasts you are unhappy with, but I have held them,
As I have run my fingers down the slender viaducts of your ribs;
And you were made in Mexico, but you somehow made it
All the way here- and I know that inevitably you will have to
Reconcile with you man, to eagerly walk away from my
Frightening loneliness; but now in the night you are the only thing
That I pretend to have, and you make everything else that seems
So frightening feel almost as far away as the dark migrating fairgrounds
Of your beautiful, beautiful eyes.