To A Nest That Aches Not To Be Alone Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I’ve been reading and filling in the gaps over
Your make believe Guerrero, Alma:
I’ve been listening to little girls who are walking down
The street
And tonight I ate six tostadas that Mierna’s sister
Caroline cooked and fed to me;
And I picked up all of Alan’s dye cast cars that were
Scattered like bright toys for the angels and the birds
At the feet of the Virgin of Guadalupe:
But I kept on loving you even when you were back in
The traditions of your bad man:
And the boys and the men say that Mexican women need
It every night;
And I bought you a vase of roses and baby’s breath
Late this afternoon, that you could not
Take home with you,
Because you had to close your eyes and say that you could
Never see the perfect snowflakes floating fall:
And you are still scared of dogs,
Even though I hold your hand, and I would carry you
Away from all those feral traditions to a nest that aches not to
Be alone.