When I Disappear Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Birds make love next to the canals I jog:
Birds fly over me and terrapins disappear into that inkjets
Of ribbon,
And the highway roars with housewives busy from shopping;
The money is gobbled up faster than my legs can exercise
The burry earth:
But it is true that girls move and it is raining, and eyes look out
Of the windows of their houses,
And I am not just a little boy anymore;
I am a man by this river who is trying to hawk his ribs to any woman
Who needs an extra spear;
And I will put children in her to make sure that I do not disappear
When I disappear.