Not Chaucer Poem by Robert Rorabeck

This is not Chaucer,
But I’ve had the chance to finish it
Before I die:
So I love you,
And this is the underdeveloped post-script
I haven’t really spent much time on,
And the bus is coming around,
And the lions are busy yawning waiting
For their trainer to fling into their
Mangy insouciance entire pink-throated
Mackerel,
And I am too nervous to flee towards
The mosquito truancy deeper in the
Florida holly where the traffic
Would not see us,
And from where I stand I can see
A moat falling for miles
Into that old familiar cave,
If you remember,
Where we pretended to live.