The Airplanes Fly Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Lost in the waves of busses,
And now she is pregnant and the most likely
Parable- well, words anyway:
And she flows through graveyards like the
The prom dresses of weather vanes:
There she goes, anyways, melting like ice-cream
For the ants who come up to
Watch the parade- as it rains- as it rains,
And she does as she does,
As the dogs run around the tracks- as the white rabbits
Disappear into hats:
Animals just doing their jobs:
As the waves break, the windmills turn,
And the airplanes fly.