The Highway By Which I Will Never Die Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If you sleep. I will too- I will lay my hazardous
Body across your brown cartography: you know that when I was
Little my grandmother used to tell me that we
Were related to some people who made globes,
And there is a city in Arizona named Kingman, but f- her;
Alma.
I can still smell your body’s perfume, and the way I lounged about
It early this morning,
And the way I so hungrily wished for it even just this afternoon:
And there are sharks in the sea who never feel but
Always move;
And there are hot air balloons above the glaciers in Alaska
Of a different fabric,
But you are still within walking distance, and now I love you;
And you are all that I move for, even if I can never really move:
And this is how a body feels making strides towards
Its immortal tomb;
And I love you now, and this is just how my skeleton mouths
Off to its delicious wine cremated in the sky;
And you are just the secret passageway of my immortality:
Alma: Alma,
You are just the highway by which I will never die.