To Strengthen My Gut Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If there seems to be a memory
Of her
Or of this place
Or of the cars we kissed in
Let it happen over the graveyards
That are sure to contain us
Once we our in our place
And inescapable from Zeno’s paradox—
Once upon a time,
Everything seemed to be beautiful
In a very absent and listless way—
I followed her home and slept on
Her roof,
My parents lived in an RV—
Behind the canal and underneath the mountains,
And a side of my face was purple:
A Columbian woman swung on the swings,
one or two,
And in a month I would be robbed at gun point.
Now I am so far away there is only this:
The mythology of hummingbirds and
The cheapest Chinese rice wine
To strengthen my gut.