To Pay For One More Hour Poem by Robert Rorabeck

They'll put their pledges into your eyes—
Yes they will, and then you'll drive out of the parking lot
Of the mall,
Or your own driveway—just like the pieta half hidden
In the estranged corsages on the side of your house—
And then wont it be flat out painful—
And won't you guess, or can't you imagine:
Tomorrow, another day at school,
Or another borrowed dollar to pay for one more hour—
And the ship is wrecked, its beautiful negligee torn—
And the wolves stand alone
All but kissing your name.