Too Enamored To Even Care Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I eat kettle corn
And exhale through my sugar twinged
Lips,
And pretend that I’ve just come down
From working the
Winged
Fair;
Or that I was its auctioneer
With so many words on my lips,
Or the lover of
Her fairer sister,
My fingers entwined with ribbons
Of absolutely nothing
I have stolen from her hair,
As she lay dazzled,
Bare breasted,
Giving her all to the sun so absentminded
And immortal it would do her no good:
It was as if he wasn’t even there,
But, alas,
She was too enamored to even care.