Where I Have Thought Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I don’t want to live without you- for a little while
As the hours die:
The sea of horses jumping over the house, despising
Its suburban wives;
And I said that you were so beautiful, calling back again
The first memory of your belonging-
While my blood is filled with the tearless rubies of
Crocodiles,
My face smoldering the tears sweated from the armpits
Of angels who weren’t even your cousins:
Why, aren’t we in the same world,
Alma, counting our good luck and trigonometry, as the entire
House flies,
And the flowers I’ve stolen for you are getting so old:
And I go out to the sea and look at its outcasts- the beauty of
Its equipage the same memory as I have you in:
While the petty government has stolen away my swings,
And the helicopters fly in the colors of coral snakes:
Yellow, and red up in their strange- and I do not know
Who I am:
But a cenotaph in the hibiscus, a zoetrope of grandmother luxury
Turning around outside your bedroom,
As you get off of your love- and you know that I love you,
And I want to go back to Mexico, anyways,
And to a place where I have thought I have never been.