The First And The Last Time Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Going away anew into the shadows of
Migratory amusement—Flipping the soft pages
Of apathetic muses—of girls who hold
Their lips over the water fountain in the resounding
Basins of the pearl and gold mountains until
They are finished—hummingbirds moving on from
Flower to flower—
At first their apartments glow and then dim—
When they make love in the graveyard, it lights up
For the night—the traffic sounds like trumpets—
For the first and the last time.