Who Then Would Be Set Free? Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Whippoorwill trills at 3: 36.
I used to believe that someone was going to
Die,
To get his throat cut, or get lost in kindergarten on
A fieldtrip to the art museum
To never return,
To eat fried chicken and sleep in graveyards
And be called by the woman in the sea with great tits:
To never return,
But now I do not think it is possible to never return,
Because you drove in today,
And you knew nothing about me, only that it was Halloween
And you son was going to be a human,
Because I asked him,
And your daughter was going to be a witch,
Because that is what she shouted at me-
And I drank a bottle of wine, according to the jocular skeleton
And then passed through the clock down through the secret
Passage where the unicorns had forgotten themselves
Under the gray kings sea,
And I became seriously puzzled,
As I thought of the porcelain shelves of your calves:
Was I the gray king, or was he me,
And if I stepped out into those breaking combs
Who then would be set free?