Drunken cathedrals, this is what you do to me, <br />Keep me dry for a very little while <br />And then letting in the rains as <br />You hum for me; <br />And, oh my god, I cant believe I was just with <br />That girl, <br />Younger than my little sister underneath the plane <br />That so very recently some trigger-happy scientist figured <br />Out was round; <br />And now we swing in ellipses; we swing and come without <br />A sound, <br />And I wonder what her apartment looks like; <br />I think that it should look like a snow white Christmas, <br />With so many coats and furs of animals <br />That no longer exists, or that should never have existed; <br />Tonight, I made love to an incredible creature <br />Which was like a defeated fable underneath the playground <br />Of those fabulous inventions of man which <br />Go forever onward over-leaping the playgrounds of this <br />Earth, <br />Holding their breath, maybe experiencing harmony, <br />Until once or twice again their wings touch down, like <br />Butterflies migrating through a truck stop in Texas, <br />Warming to their comrades and yet perceiving that their bright <br />And yellow death lies somewhere nearer the apex of <br />The greater and more somnolent onward desert.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/somewhere-near-the-apex-of-the-greater-and-more-somnolent-onward-desert/
