So Many Months Away From Home Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Even though I am about to go to sleep,
All of the souls of fireworks are in your eyes,
But they are so easily spent—
In the nights and the holidays underneath the
Airplanes—
And where does that leave us, taking off
Without any view—
I want your lips next to mine—telling me lies
As the stewardesses daydream in the middle of
A school day—
They are almost all of the way to France,
And they know nothing of your shoulders—of your
Skin—of your scent—
And my vocabulary is limited—and I am not
Very good at baseball—but I have made love to you,
And I have placed my bouquets in the shadows
Of your doorsteps—
And I am waiting now for you to step out
To the silhouettes cast from the moonlight—and
For you to pretend to me in love with me,
Even though I am malformed studying in these colleges
And you have become an apiary nearby the amusement
Parks that are already so many months away from home.