Which Makes Me The Boss Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Undying pinafores, I was worshipping you, I said
The pledge of allegiance to you from atop our mountain,
While the rains cried cheekily all week;
And I hadn’t written poems to you the last two days
Of this sodden week;
But now the deluge it comes like a surprise, like kittens
On your birthday; I guess I wanted to live forever,
And I guess I will:
My grandfather wanted to live forever, but now he is gone:
My grandfather is gone, he could not last,
He disappears like smoking diesel underneath the
Crenulated overpass; and he wanted to build a house,
And he wanted to last- His wife was young and
Christian- and all of my aunts and uncles have so many
Children-
But that is not important; it is important that these words
Should grow and come again, should worship their
Own heads after the green, green frost, should masturbate
Alone without any tourists,
And in the savage green sea get tossed; and now I have bested
Him: my father, my grandfather; and I am lost;
And the sea is sea-green and teal with envy-
And who do I love, I don’t know- I am lost; I am not
Even who I once was, but who cares:
I will live forever- I will live forever,
Which makes me the boss.