Impermanent Beauty Mark Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I want to come, and streak your face
With an impermanent beauty mark while
The winos float by just as insouciant as doves
And fainted conquistadors down past the pool:
For you to wipe me off and smile like a holiday
That as ended, a hearth in which a fire has soon died,
And exhausted you can go back to picking dates
And wild scuppernongs to the better suited
Fables, long-tongued, and gooder for wiping your taught
Pink wrinkled as$,
So that I might smile too, and picking up my plastic
Stewardesses for a fix, become the paper airplane
That rests pullulating across the other side of the canal,
Never intending again to return to your careless,
Adulterous palm.