To Remember Any Of Our Names Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I still think of you like a Chinese
Dinner is South Florida. It is so difficult to learn
Your tongue even though your parents
Are so worried about you,
And I am coming home to my world,
Leaving you pregnant and waiting for an interview
That will bring you to me in a few weeks to
A month:
You thought my father's eyes were green:
And you said so repeatedly—Maybe he was the
Better man for you, if only he wasn't so perpetually married
To my mother:
And we visited temples together—and made love,
Burring our heads in the old beliefs of junked cars—
And I kept getting drunkardly—on and off during
The weekends,
And even while I am preparing to leave,
Shanghai is expecting a typhoon—maybe she will come
And drown out all of my other wishes,
But otherwise I am going home and wont you have
To follow me eventually—
Down into those cyanide viaducts where it just so
Happens we used to skip school,
And spend all of our otherwise wishes daydreaming,
And drooling in streams which otherwise ran to swing sets
And silver foxes that continued breathing long after high school
Without ever having to remember any of our names.