Between Work And Home Poem by Robert Rorabeck

At my uncle’s fruit market
I told you your eyes were so dark and beautiful;
And you said that my eyes were also dark and beautiful,
And then I bagged for you for the rest of the afternoon,
And we seemed to reconcile
Even after you said we could only be friends even after
I had made love to you;
Alma- and now it appears as if I want to die,
But everyone does that anyway: because of you, I think I will
Go on forever,
Somewhere curled up in your shadow, forgotten but where
I must belong,
As your dark eyes make decisions down the road that is always waiting
For you to come and take its ribbons in your grasp
And travel its familiar and forlorn path back and forth
Between work and home.