If It Pleases You Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If it pleases you then yes;
If it does not please you, then forget it:
For I am displeased with my form, and I would like to
Travel around a rich cul-de-sac in a park
Where the storm clouds belly and press cannibal song birds
To each blade of grass;
And eventually she drains herself while you are so full and
Far away;
While they say that it is the very same moon over all of us,
But I do not believe them: here is my moon over my world,
And where is your moon; where is your world?