Just Exactly What You Are Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If I see you sweep in like the traffic,
I am speechless,
And these words are motherf$ckers;
And when you get up and make nude your blue eyes;
Then I wish I knew how to read your music;
And only your blue music exists-
Like I only have plaid to wear; and I don’t care that
You have to smoke,
Or look into the eyes of your beautiful men;
I am just a chimney sweep anyways, with my own scars
And the mountains I have climbed that you don’t
Know;
And the city pearls and makes love to the hemispheres
Of its vibrating sky;
That is just what it is doing; and then your eyes open up-
They are just like flowers blooming; and that is
Just what they are;
And I wish I was more beautiful for you-
And I want to worship at your church every day;
And give you oral pleasure, and make you moan like the continents
Touching themselves amidst the clay birthday cakes,
Because that is just exactly what you are.