Slipping Away Poem by Robert Rorabeck

You can save me, and all of this voodoo:
While the body pills,
And while we wait for ourselves to holdover,
And some sommelier sells Icecream
In Colorado underneath all of those nosebleed summits
That I’ve already surmounted,
And while all of it goes away, slipping away like
Woebegone sailors across the sea-
And the Christmas tree lumbers, pill boxing:
The train around it sleuthing, cantankerous, spellbound:
While a lummox in the clouds spills into his
Britches, and then pitches a tent;
And across the rest of the country, the other side of the
Mississippi is defiled, and the negroes and
The harpies light off fireworks,
While otherwise I am alone,
And counting by my primary numbers, colorful and
Fluttering-
And up until then it doesn’t even have to spell, while
Drinks spill over at their bars, and the muses that they have
Known turn into dryads and naiads and slip into the
Forests and the seas themselves-
And slip- and slip away.