To You Right Now Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Can’t I say that I have been born into you,
While I put the bottle down and try to jump:
Sure, yes, I am going,
As I am leaping: Like a pretty butterfly while I am lying,
While all of the prettiest of white boys are
Sleeping in their air-conditioned cars: while all of this they
Are doing, reassured because the graveyard she is still blooming:
And they have seen the oysters sequestered in her grotto,
All the peals laid out thoroughly opened in her boudoir,
All as if the open throats of opals on Sundays in the jewelry rooms
Of her blonded boudoirs;
But I am just as sure, Alma, that they have never seen her;
Just as I am sure, that they will never see you, Alma;
They will never see you, but you are just as beautiful laying across
The places that they sleep, as brown as delicate as a picnic
Of mariposa, all the mariposa weeping the molasses of all the sweetest
Times while all of the gringos sleep and dream of fireworks shooting
Off that are never as so sweet and as near as you are to me right
Now, Alma: Alma, as I am to you right now, As I weep….
And weep…. And weep.