One Thousand Pages Of Tuna Fish Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I like beer,
And cheap rum and
Space ships;

And if you signal me,
I’ll turn around and collect you,
And name you some type of flower:
It’s a beautiful name,
I assure you,

And most of it hidden like Hemmingway:

And birds and planets revolving too
Across your room,
Across the higher basins:

I’ll lay you across a star ship and christen you
With a bottle of wine lifted from her store,
Because I shouldn’t have to pay for
Anything to reveal you,

Because what would that make you?
What would that make me- And I loved her,
But she’s married and has a child,

And its still raining outside,
And you are quite peaceful and easy enough
To carry down to the sea to make love,

Like eating a tuna fish sandwich,
And sending a greeting card: a thousand pages of
Nothing,
When I could have you right now.