With All Of Its Breath Poem by Robert Rorabeck

My body is as scarred and indecisive as a Manticore;
And when I mount you, I feel like a lucky mountain
Surmounting a unicorn;
And none of it feels entirely real, except that I know that
Your favorite color is green,
And your eyes are more beautiful than the breathless
Panoramas that I have seen atop the highest mountains
Of Colorado and California,
That I have illegally hiked and thus been fined;
And now that I have found you, it feels as if I have been given
An entire orchard that cannot entirely be mine,
But from which I eat and imbibe illegally, while all of the
Guns go off so high above Christmas and all of the ancient
Alligators of my old alma maters,
While the cars turn around, and the weather vanes;
And the world finally turns out and shows how it does
All the tricks that somehow combine together
And blow with all of its breath my secret wishes for your name.