The Girl Who I Love Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I can play my game- you can play my game
Too:
Open mouthed, looking in at the zoo,
In a wild and wonderful pace
Where the amusements filibuster and the zoetrope
Of the roller coasters turn
Around,
In days without number getting dizzy underneath the
Sun so easily found:
Words on a vine, being plucked, and tucked in
Beneath trucks,
Being turned up, unearthed
After the amusements have gone home,
After the bicycles have left the graveyard,
And I am left to roam:
Words in the cusps of her hometown in the nape of
Her venison:
While the bicycles rest as breathless as candles.
Or I know that you suppose just what she does
And I have been up again in the
Morning,
Yawning again, or telling secrets, but only to
The girl who I love.