Could They? Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Birthday cake was good in Spain-
I was drunk and chasing a guitar into Southern
France,
Blowing through wind tunnels on Christmas;
But it isn’t yet new years for this old year,
And why didn’t you love me,
Why didn’t you hold off for me until I was done
Baking;
It’s taken some time, and I’m behind the rest of
My class,
But I’m almost almost yummy;
And we could have gone on paddle boats together,
Or costarred as romantic interests in some
Romantic sunset movie:
But the trees aren’t going anywhere,
Nor am I: I could come up there and jump on your
Bed like a faithful dog and just lie there.
I wouldn’t even recognize if you were naked:
I could lick your kneecap, and it would be just as good
As sweet ice-cream for me- I’d hate to move near
The sea now,
But it’s almost what I have to do: I have to get out of here
And nearer the wallets of walrus sized tourists,
Sell them slick amusements and cool refreshments,
The ice-cream from my aluminum tram underneath the
Rosebud shadow of the Castillo De San Marcos,
And take solace in the fact that they could never think
To find ice-cream so sweet as you;
Could they? Could they?