The Deeper Meanings Of Your World Poem by Robert Rorabeck

My house is filled with poison that
The cats sleep around:
I have hit the bottle and gone off to some cow
Town,
And you are in the sky right now, turning in
Some sort of constellation across the
Overgrown easement of the canal:
And the words are like busloads of tourists
Traveling up the easy slopes,
Looking at all of the doe-eyed angels:
And I suppose it is something really great,
That I graduated high school,
That I had some pie and saw Sharon in the hallway
Long before I saw you,
Alma:
That was when the students were kissing and even then
Dreaming of professions or the jingoistic
Hopalongs of a military band:
You were still in Guerrero Mexico, talking with your
Hands,
And you hadn’t looked up into the colors of my flag,
And the flowers burned underneath your bed:
And maybe it is that tomorrow is the last tomorrow
That I will see you in,
Or that I can fall to my knees and kiss and bless you in;
And the clouds color in like tourists
Above the sea the happenstance of their whimsy:
And all night long at the movies above tree
Line I think of you and pray to the virgin for you,
And color my skin
And look at the green things of this world who happen to
Be your favorites,
Some of them who are most like me and cloistered to the
Carports
You have neither seen nor heard; but here is where they love
You the best, while the washing machines yearn,
And the doleful eyes of innocents look up and try to
Contemplating the deeper meanings of your world.