To Entirely Fulfill Another Mistaken Life Poem by Robert Rorabeck

All the beautiful words shoeless and stripped naked
And then by the dark winos underneath the overpasses,
The quietest and most beautiful of flowers bloom,
As I call out for Alma in the somnolence of my inquietude:
And I bought a bicycle for her to come,
Something that could make love to my bicycle in high exegesis;
But it wasn’t enough,
The clouds kept for her the pictures of her other world,
My words failed to build a house that would sustain her from
The elements,
And now I can feel my face shedding the pitiless sorrows,
Like the cicadas who leave their legs and armors around the
Necks of other trees to walk
Off all of a sudden into other romances; but, Alma, I really loved
You- or I have a disease:
But it is more likely that there is a drive in movie theatre in which
You are naked and starring in my mind,
And I am the only gentleman you will know, but the irony is that
You will overlook my postmodern chivalry,
And go on for so many uncounted heartbeats with him as to entirely
Fulfill another mistaken life.