Given Enough Time Poem by Robert Rorabeck

She is unfaithful:
People die in her all day-
I roll up my half-finished novels,
And put them in her,
And then raise the tiny red-metal
Flag,
When she is on all fours and turning backwards,
Like a pinup at play
With blue-eyes:
And I wished I was really in love,
And making love to her at the base of a
Juniper Pine,
And all the horses had gone away and followed
Those long roads of America after the last sun,
And I was too busy putting my things in
Her to awfully care:
And I don’t know her name,
And she’s just changed her hair style,
Making her difficult to describe,
But still if you are patient and restful,
You should see her fawning, or roller skating,
Or biting her lip outside the post office,
Or university, or cemeteries you’ve been watching,
Given enough time.