Than What You Do To Me Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Discovering just what I need to do rightly
By you:
Discovering nothing at all of where you sleep,
What fabulous lingerie and whose boy has
Cradled you;
But it must be a joyful word too transcendental
Saddled up next to nature:
You can step outside and smoke and pee;
You never have to go inside for shelter, or when
You are wounded and are in need of healing,
Or you are thinking of your mother
And trying to wish for her. Maybe the stars gallop
Over your blond forehead,
Over the medley of broken hibiscus and wilting palms
In that yard,
The overgrown smorgasbord of banana spiders;
All I know is that you were kicked out of high school,
And never had to see the flame dying in my eyes,
The buses turning away:
You had your own hope and kisses given away to others
Boys even more delinquent than eye;
But now what is most beautiful about you
Is that you could never be any more professional than
What you do to me.