The Only Thing That Is Different Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The night can be telescopic, and my eye got
Punched;
I’m waiting for the stores to shut down-
I’m waiting for the arcades to wind down, for
The students to pass out from drink,
To slip into the street with their guitars unstrung,
To slip into the street and drool in the gutters of
What dreams they have laid over from
Highschool-
Waiting for the cats to trick like coyotes,
And for the old girlfriend to finally stop pulling out
Her hair;
Here, in the golden turnabout where a cop pulled
Me over a decade ago, I think of you as I thought of
You a decade ago: Here, across the street from
The Chinese junks, from the yellow studios and the
Naturally hairy lesbians nude in the nude pool-
All that is different is that I have new scars,
I’ve switched places- old friends have faded away into
New families, better words, employed;
And I’m still off in that night getting drunk my manager,
Will be leaving soon for Tallahassee to get my degree,
To fart and light off fireworks for Halloween,
To sunbathe in the graveyard of segregated confederates,
Wandering what tricks you would pull that night-
That night of sleeping bicycles and all my impotent haunts:
I knew you were calling off work, tasting the hemispheres
Of your blue fireman, and that was why I was getting drunk;
And that is why I’ll be getting drunk again tonight.
Because, don’t you still live in Gainesville, and aren’t
You still a beautiful auburn girl? Wherever my old girl is,
I’m sure she still has a bald spot,
And the only thing that is different is I have new scars,
And I’m waiting to get drunk.