The Wonderful Ending For This Poem About Her Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I want to sound like a good man,
I would like to be, something dressing down for
Summer,
Conjoining with bodies that are so talented they make
The rented sea envious,
Going up, going down, the elevators of blue somnolence
The easy mysteries,
The ways that they sound coming and going, like
A brotherhood of airplanes, and I wonder about all of those
Sororities of stewardess making fun with their
Lascivious occupations, looking up their beds so swell and
Unmade, as good as they’d always been while going
To classes on their bicycles;
While I keep doing this, thinking about them all alone,
And doing this now, like a tourist in heat, but never touching
Myself anymore, laying off of that- trying to become the better
Man the specializing scientist, the voyeur on Florida
Cruises, the lion tamer in need when she comes scabbed kneed,
Wanting someone to whip her good, draping down the from
Everglades as I’d already written she would come,
Glass in hand, smoking an invisible cigarette, lonely and thinking
If only I was a better man, her pilot, or her pimp,
And the world she lives in is so wide and amazing with colors
Following her like a brilliant dog who can still never imagine how
She sees the world, waving for long instances to relatives
She never hopes to see again, just following her and wagging,
Happily homeless in her steps,
Forgetting anything else, especially the wonderful ending I’d
Saved for this poem about her.