That I Can Never Have This Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The greatest generalization of
Your myth
Spoke to me without
Any shoes;
And the morning lay as if
In a torpid bowl,
As if in a glade of Christmas;
As I loved the girl who
Brought me breakfast
Any girl, while just last night
I felt the nickel of
The little boy’s gun on the
Small of my
Back,
On the back of the head:
All he wanted was
Money;
Funny that he shouldn’t
Know
He couldn’t have this:
All I want is you
And the time needed to
Smell your blossoms,
To ring you up in sorcery;
Funny that I shouldn’t know
That I can never have this.