Aphrodisiac Hypoluxo Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I missed you on the elevator;
But I was wrong, I wasn’t really there-
I was sitting in the sidelines getting older,
Waiting for it to snow;
Witches fly like imperfections in the eye
Of a hurricane;
I thought I saw you there, and in my
Grandmother’s last smile,
But I wasn’t really looking.
People get to know each other in their cars:
It is the fastest way known to anything,
Or by watching cartoons on Saturday morning.
What is yours? Hold on, we’re almost there;
But mostly in their cars, parked on the wrong
Side of movies; and the leading man takes you
Like Count Dracula, a stone cold bride swooned beneath
The alders and the high camelback of the dark overpass.
Oh my god, would you look at his eyes;
Those are really something, and
There is a store of syrup in your neck,
But his fangs are as good as the Spear of Longinus;
The silly straws of a rattle snake?
I wouldn’t know,
I called your name out the door, but it wasn’t
Your name. I opened the door thinking it was your
Car, but it didn’t have the new you smell,
And it drove away with me hostage inside, and only me.
People get to know each other in their cars,
But who am I to know. Now all the weather is falling,
The trees are fast undressing, and it looks like
Sherbet snow;
But this isn’t even your boulevard,
You don’t even drive around this town and the lights
Are brilliantly cold and I just go on and on….