Robert Rorabeck - The Surface That I Need To Survive

The bodies pull their strings hard to the south
And the whole armada turns like boys in pornographic
Dreams who still have
To wake up early tomorrow to sound of into the sinister mirages
Of dragonflies and their ululating of
Poisonous opulence:
And I pray to the virginsita that soon I might die, but that Alma
Can live forever
And take her place in the opulent sky: that she might still become
The clairvoyance of her favorite color,
Or that she might live forever in Ocala, just under the chin
Of where all of the chicken white students will be studying forever
In their successive generations of nothingness:
Because that now the storm clouds have bruised my eye:
And I am too drunken to drive,
But my body still feels warm from the fires of a poem;
And Alma is so close, and almost reaching her is like almost
Reaching the surface that I need to survive.

Robert Rorabeck

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-surface-that-i-need-to-survive/