It Would Be Almost Worth Living Poem by Robert Rorabeck

My eyes fog like San Francisco:
I have never been to San Francisco,
But I hear that long red bridge,
Like a woman is great for suicide;
And, I don’t know who I am- On my second
Beer,
And I’m already not looking half bad,
Keeping one eye out for cops,
Or pretty unwed mothers with one leg:
I just don’t want to starve-
I need someone to clean and change my bandages:
If I could just find a very, very tired eyed
Woman to stay with me forever in one or two rooms
In a very, very simple home,
That we could live in and sweep at midnight,
And practice child-making through the short,
Unsteady halls- it would be beautiful,
It would be almost worth living.