The Thoughts I Suppose I Could Never Understand Poem by Robert Rorabeck

It seems for awhile as if I’m
Coalesced- that I am in love,
But continually scarred:
My love,
I will have to go to school tomorrow,
And maybe the cemeteries will have to flood,
But maybe you will have to like
Me forever:
Maybe you don’t know a thing except for
The sun always arises as
The fireworks always extinguishes within
The boundaries of the yards
Of housewives which I suppose eventually
Mean well:
But, my love, you are not quite listening to
Be;
But, my love, I suppose as well:
That is not quite hell: though I love you,
Like a sacred
Dressing room giving of its perfumes
To the lips of werewolves-
This is just another thing I never discovered,
Breathed from the fornications of
The roses-
And it is very uncomfortable for the modest
Heroes to continue onwards-
As it is, for awhile- just as strange to venture
Forward, serving only the bosoms
Of you love in a playground that never existed-
While the blue gills look up through
The shallows, giving off the penumbras of
The thoughts I suppose I could never understand.