The Most Uninhibited Of Rains Poem by Robert Rorabeck

All of the songs for a girl who never made it to
High school:
All of the songs to her, to verify the beauty of the penumbras
Of Spanish shadows
In the flea markets underneath the overpasses:
All of the songs for her now, while all of the professionals
That I once knew in my classes bend low and offer up
Their asses:
All of my songs for, Alma, because I am being led through the
Brightest of home rooms for her,
Alma: you have let me round all of your bases,
And the sky now is a light bulb which I can exchange;
And I was carded today, Alma;
And I guess it was because I am halfway beautiful, even if
I am strange;
And I buy plastic bags, and I light all of the candles,
And I kissed the lips of the Virgin of Guadalupe tonight Alma,
Even though she was wrecked, and I asked her to bless
You even while all of the traffic seemed to pause,
As if all of the racehorses stuttered to your name; and I am
Listening to the whispering mirages of airplanes as they pass over
My house, and blessing you, just as ants bless their queen
Deep in the hearts of their mounds,
Utterly safe even in the greatest deluges of the most uninhibited
Of rains.