Anything Close To A Lie Poem by Robert Rorabeck

When you don’t see me, I love you:
And I have been with you so many times you don’t
Remember or many other lives
In the incestual high waterfalls of the high Andes:
And it is hardly ever enough,
While the white people make love, while you make love
To,
To your other brown man, as short as I am tall:
And I guess he satisfies you fully in your bedroom without
Any other dreams:
And I am sorry that I am scarred, or that that cannot do
The many other things for you that you want:
For example, I can only ride the bull for an unlucky seven
Seconds,
And I am not the father of your children, or maybe
I am not even here,
But maybe I will live forever even while I am not
Even home:
And maybe now you will live forever, Alma: and you will
Become the homeless fairytale for so many
Pilots who will leave this place, licking you on their lips,
And the solstices turn for the other Christmases of dog years,
While I felt the contours of your ear like a car,
And never once had to turn away for fear that all of my
Loves you’s were anything close to a lie.