Knock On My Door This Morning Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Alma,
I wanted to see your car parked down my one way street:
When you left this morning after tickling, I whistled
After you,
But then I felt so bad when you followed me out onto the road
In your car,
Because I have been followed by other girls like you not so long ago,
But not as beautiful as you are, Alma.
Back and forth from the sea, like the way I have been sleepwalking:
The waves park and kiss,
The astrologers reminisce, while this evening I watched the Mexican
Kids go off and play hide and seek:
Their world is as perfect as cats are pure: Stars hang from the sky of
Chicken wire
Like the tender hopes of Mariposas, and I never want to spend
Another day without you,
Alma:
You are so beautiful and so delightfully sincere:
Your eyes are even bigger than my sister’s: I want you to cashier for me
In New Mexico,
So after midnight we can watch the celebrations smoking up through
The clouds,
Tarnishing the soft bellies and wing tips of the airplanes going their
Own way,
And I can put my arm over your shoulder and look into you eyes
So deep and untamed and brown as the desert you came across,
Pregnant and embarrassed with Michael to get on a bus
And get here,
And knock on my door this morning.