The Real Florida Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I failed gym,
But I climbed the highest mountain
When the rest if the class was studying:
In kindergarten
She gave me her old shirt
And then we fell asleep.
She awoke and made love to
Roman soldiers, though
I took her with my on top of
Every wave-
She wasn’t really there-
So I went down driven by
The rainstorm,
And we slept in my truck alone:
Look at the cat father found under my truck.
Early spring,
Look at the snow falling outside.
If you read closely,
Her looks are the words driven
Before the sunshine,
Though she doesn’t see it anymore,
As men pass from the lighthouse,
Refusing to turn in.
She is spoken in the palm’s heart,
And echoes in the shallows as men fish.
She is pulling up to a little house
Somebody lives in
And this is the real Florida.