Published Author Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I hate to look at myself when
I go to the barber shop.

My mom has cut my hair
For the past five years,

But I am a published author.

Before,
I once met Jeb Bush
At the barber shop in Tallahassee,
Near the lake where I read
The Bell Jar,
And dreamed despotically of you;

And now I select my amnesias;
And I am affected,

But please remember

I am a published author:

My hair and beard are gray,
But I still get carded- Like today I got
Carded buying cheap rum,
Even though I always buy it from
That store,
And I need a haircut, but

I am a published author,
And you are my despotic dear
And I have had cruel dreams of
You,
Though I can hardly remember.