Mountains Of Other, Sadder Days Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Every day the earthquakes and girls ride
Horses,
And look great:
And they go leaping over vermilion hedges,
And it feels so good to them
While Sharon puts her hands in the wet clay
And the world spins:
The gators win, and Erin drinks from the combed
Vespers,
The spirits who don’t need oxygen to smile,
And I would like to sit for awhile underneath her
Insouciant bust,
And curse her brown beauty which should have
Been beautiful enough for the both of
Us:
Our cars and our children, our house and the dogs,
The blue carport with the ululating frogs,
The electric immortality shockingly accorded
To the washing machine:
I wanted to love her and gather grand teddy bears
From the trash bins to duct tape to
Give to our homeless children,
But she couldn’t understand how to feel the same,
And she left me alone on the roadside which
Lead far the other way across the mountains
And mountains of other, sadder days.