Their Damp Brown Touch Poem by Robert Rorabeck

You didn’t know how to swing:
Like a good knight deeply enchanted with his fairy queen,
I swung you:
And we were both so good and out of school:
You were illegal and beautiful before my eyes,
And the airplanes swam up in the blue strata of the sky of
Skies,
Beneath them the helicopters like bees sniffing over the
Orange groves,
Their carefully orchestrated apiary, as afterwards you
Picked your children up from school-
Alma;
And my flag remained green in the movie theatre of your
Good news,
As I read the captions of all of the ecstatic truth,
As I pictured long roads covered with rain but enjoyed with you;
Even as you went back home,
And my art failed out of doors, like a planted put in the wrong
Place of yard,
Wanting for sun, or receiving too much, but remember your brown
Lips,
And their damp brown touch.