Sea Of Lunch Trucks Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I dream of a sea of
Lunch trucks,
Like fleets of silver-diamonded waves
And you come
In your baby
Blue corduroys;
And look at your
Eyes
The softest sheets of brown;
They are almost oranges in a perfectly
Symmetrical orchard
And your birthday was
Tomorrow:
Your mother lives
With you,
And your
Anonymous
Daughter.
I gave you two rose
Bushes grown
In the backyard of Florida
And baby
Blue lingerie-
I don’t like your
Boyfriend,
But what’s the difference;
I dream of a
Fleet of you
Until I can buy
A house
For us to
Live in
Anyways.