Getting Pretty Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I feel like getting pretty,
But I have no liquor
So sing me a song
From your drunken lips
And stare at me
Until the moon multiplies
And swims,
Like a naked woman in
The sky,
And then you can come
And kiss me with those lips
God stung on his way to Zion,
Because I am not here.
I have gone out the back door
To lay beneath the sky.
Here, I feel you moving
And I know what’s right.
So press into me early
Into the morning
And kiss me deeply
With your drunken lips
Because I feel like
Getting pretty
On you, my sexy liquor-