Everything That I Need Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The bodies spill over into bankruptcy and I wish I had
The time to express to you what opulent beauty your body caries:
Alma,
You are the paradox of all those cats on the fences:
Alma you weigh one hundred and ten pounds, nearly half my weight,
And yet you carry around with you all the curves of Spain:
And you told me that you wanted a boob job,
But I assured you there wasn’t any great need for it:
Alma,
I want to water your yard: Alma, I want to captain your ship,
And hold your hand while the cicadas go undressing:
Alma, I want to be the sailor you guide home with your almost ochre
Engines of fire and bright weed:
Alma, Alma,
You sell everything that I need.