What Kind Of Creature I Might Be Poem by Robert Rorabeck

She laid on her back and I touched her shoulders,
Like two rivers bowed in the rocks;
And we had been going somewhere-
I made love to her for several seconds and found out
That was enough,
Caressing her for the rest of our hour together,
She told me that she was from Seville but grew up in
New York:
She had the tattoo of the man who’d turned her out on the
Nape of her neck.
She told me she fell asleep every night to the disaster
Movie where the buildings are always falling;
And I didn’t know what to do with her:
That her eyes were blue, but even they weren’t their real color.
Her earrings were even like gang symbols,
And we were lost in the dark night of our love,
And when our hands slipped through the door it was a very
Real possibility that other men would be coming in.
I found out it was comforting that she should never have to
Be alone,
That she had given her grapes to me with little protest;
And that I could pleasure her without her wondering
What kind of creature I might be.