The Same As An Anonymous Death Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Give me something to do for awhile-
Give me your eyes and don’t change them, even
Though I am not your man, and you don’t
Care. I told you I’ve been to Spain and seen Lorca
Floating, shimmering beneath the aluminum bellies of great
Societal birds;
But who are you? I don’t care- See the things I’ve been
Doing for you, the greatest clichés and games:
It costs everybody a little to get in under the canopy where
The air is cool, where they reside- but it shouldn’t
Cost a wooden nickel for you. Bight your lip and stare at
Me for a little while with the ribbon bowed in your
Curls: Who are you, anyways- You might be my cousin,
But it is the same to you- You’ve never been to University I
Can tell- Never ridden a bicycle:
My hand has been so hungry for your hand, even when I was
With another girl, and my face haunted the reflections of the
Lunch room, so young and awfully perplexing;
And the leaves changed, and death grew:
These words are the same as an anonymous death you know,
The most careful sort of pain that will take you safely home where
You reside, and will leave you alone to watch the fichus tremble
Under the chipped window- I wish I knew better things to do
With you- You can see the ice-cream parlor from where you
Tend to live, but you are not my girl- and I don’t
Care in what color your eyes tend to live. Kiss me and I will
Go away; and it won’t cost you a thing- nothing is all you’ll
Have to feel.