I’ve climbed forty of the fourteen thousand <br />Foot mountains in Colorado, <br />Sometimes four in a day, past tree line <br />Where the rocks gossip in a lightning storm- <br />I’ve heard them; <br />But who knew I was ranging all around you, <br />Like trying to cast an esoteric spell, <br />While you were busy drinking and selling wine, <br />Being pollinated in and out by your chosen <br />Man- And it is a beautiful town in you live in, <br />In the valley where nothing can be killed or <br />Rearranged- While I’ve run further away, <br />Checking my drafts to reassure that I cannot spell, <br />Letting it trail out behind me as a sort of <br />Perfunctory Will; and now I’ll have bad credit, <br />As I have bad skin, but I still live in a dream- <br />A dream sometimes of Florida, and sometimes <br />OF Colorado, and sometimes right here- <br />A celibate invention I keep to myself, sleep <br />Walking with my dogs amidst slash pine and <br />Standard bred horses, often pretending that you <br />Come at night to lay with me, <br />In the morning leaving nothing that could be <br />Ascribed to a fairytale, but the malingering of your <br />Perfumes in my dysfunctioning soul.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-malingering-of-your-perfumes-in-my-dysfunctioning-soul/
