Where Love Is Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now there is no music,
And of course you are here.
You say the meanest things,
And my body is sad for love of your
Body,
Or maybe since kindergarten I’ve made
A terrible mistake,
And I never found out what love is;
I’ve just been on one long extended field-
Trip eyes bugging out over the naked
Still life in the painted arcades,
Or the football stadiums;
And I wanted to be profound for you,
Wanted to crawl on my back up between the
Pink-shell keystone of you breast,
And say good things to your napes and stems,
To see where your rivers started,
To smell your wildflowers,
And to lay my tongues on them;
But you have found your pretty boys busting
Bricks in other exhibits,
And I can’t seem to find your soul behind the blue
Velvet forest fires of your eyes;
And I guess nobody can tell me where love is….