Maria Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Maria asks me where I came from that my
Face is so chapped-
I tell her it is stress, and she laughs and asks
If I really have tress:
Maria is just as beautiful as when I saw her
A decade ago before I moved on
From community college,
Before I even got that girl I lost,
And always jogged alone in the park:
She was too fat to jog,
But I stroked her c%nt until it become like a corpulent
Flower in the rain.
Which is really like the best kind, because it can hold
An entire dinner party of bumble bees-
Jewish bumble bees- and I guess that’s what it did;
But I never thought of her-
I am awfully afraid of lightning- anytime there is rain
And the plants are about getting wet,
And maybe it is because of the girl in Colorado,
Or maybe it’s because you still read my poems and ask
Me why I don’t call,
When you told me not to call- When you hung up on me
And made your self suppliant like a battle ship for
Your sailors;
But still jog alone, and it’s always been about your neighborhood
And Bukowski always gives a few good throws,
But I think I’ve got him outmatched now-
And who cares if no one sees:
This is a game of midnight devilry, best kept secret from
The major leagues:
And I’ll sell Christmas trees and order pizza
And drink cheap liquor and read cheap poetry wherever
I can find it:
There are always thrift shops and liquor stores,
And the forest is alive and rich with the oil fires of such
Winos; and jogging at night shoeless through the Australian
Pines and tattooed sand dunes is otherworldly,
And I always think of you when I am vacillating on my
Amusing rocket ship:
Going up and down and nowhere pretty fast,
Like a wave who thinks he might leap away from its
Vast mother,
To kiss you briefly in the smoky atmosphere of other
Planets that aren’t even real,
Not knowing that it was you making that need-some
Noise on the cinderblocks of the back step,
Waiting to get in all this time.