Don'T You Remember Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The trucks pull the sea over you like some sort of
Blanket, because I wonder why anytime you see me you start
Shivering;
Am I that most beautiful form of cadaver; when I just want to
Ride the tamed rapids with you:
I want to be a grinning tourist going through the routines
Of sweet amusement with you and your daughter:
Those very long and twisted tresses I could find you on,
Trying to become a kamikaze mariposa,
Trying to leave the perfected states of your body for abstraction,
Or just trying to look down the blouse of that old fort in the bosom
Of Saint Augustine, while all the nuns sleep like stamps pressed
Sweetly up against their arrow-eaten conquistadors;
And what really am I doing but becoming the extinction of fireworks:
I am becoming the green copper canon with digestion problems at
Your wedding:
I am gurgling up spells for witches and trolls; and I still remember
Your eyes, Kelly, floating like azure moons over those canals
I skipped school on just to look in to your eyes, Kelly;
I was the otter placing himself moribundly in your lap for so many
Seasons; and don’t you- and don’t you remember?