Jean Poem by Robert Rorabeck

It’s almost 3 am, but no one
Cares;
Tomorrow, I want to ask you your middle
Name,
Kelly- and then I want to set out with you
To the swings of a joyful place:
While all the canooks break ice in the quarterbacks
Of Spanish glaciers;
I want to read the brails of your face,
And swirl the wine of your comely features;
If you want to go back to college,
I want to help you- I want to resemble you in all
Of your features;
I want to help you remember what your first word
Was;
And by what roots you came down to Florida:
You were born in Texas, and you can remember the first
Name of all of your teachers:
You love Jesus and all of his lives; and I am just
As celibate as he was; and we both knew some
Prostitutes and some Jewish teachers:
Misplaced into the golden dromedaries of your defeated
Armies,
I would like to sun and dry my clothes;
I would like to place on the bat winged shelves of your
Shoulders and your
Blades all of my family’s heirlooms,
Or anything else that was yours by right, or that I could
Rightly steal for you.