The Rhyme Of This Thirsting Tongue Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I am well done:
Getting felt up, and filled up,
On the Disney World tram,
The ancient roller coasters, and parades
Of ancient mice
(Where were you, anyway,
And can’t you feel me now,
As I call you?)
Then, for the senior trip, I was
On a little bit of ecstasy, trying to figure out
Myself in the reflection of the rented bus’
Gaze,
And the little half Jewish girl waved,
Some five years or more before she became a
Lawyer: And I am happy, and just as healthy,
That I will live for a century, for sure, ha! ha!
Shakespeare, and she is a bartenderess high on her
Luck:
When she was an outdoor waitress, she
Kissed my neck,
But who in the hell is the he she does f*ck.
Westminster Abbey, drive dump truck-
These Venetian blinds are made of bubbly, replaceable
Glass,400 monuments and some weddings in here;
And the roller-coasters are cliché,
And my poetry should just be criticized for being totally
Drunk,
But come July 4th, I will make a buck,
And hide my wallet in the inevitable clichés of her
Tw*t, but I have said that before,
In the food court of her obese malls, and not in
Her flee markets: Still, it is funny how she looks at me,
And how I show up in her photographs of,
.... And I wonder still if that is how she will find me,
So many years after she has failed,
That I have loved her, unpointed in the recessive sea,
Basking in the maul of this star, I pretend,
And she can find me still, if she is in the mood for
The rhyme of this thirsting tongue.