Tell Alma Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I tell Alma to tell me she loves me:
She tells me she loves me,
And then she has to go away: She’s already driving on
Cherry,
And soon she will be home: she just wants to sleep-
The airplanes are touching down.
She wears my gold, and eats my cake-
All of my wishes are for her- and I have felt her brown
Skin across mine,
The way an otter might make love to an eel, but
I wont talk to her again
Until morning- and I wont see her for a week:
My muse- I once bought a bicycle for her
That I only had to return,
But I kissed her in the waves, even though she could
Not swim-
I took her into the sea, and I will take her back in again.