In The Playground Of Unremembered Rules Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Wine is cheap and of one note-
The airplanes are but a whisper.
Your concerns are of others.
The alligators nod ceaselessly,
With no need to buy houses
Or look beautiful.

It so happens you have a family,
And it is the beginning of the new
Baseball season:
Blue skies bloom as bouquets
Above the playgrounds your children
Will ride over to come home-

And this is not a burden even for
Lancelot's shoulders;
But a way to enjoy the night-
This night as you are becoming old.
Lovers whom have exorcised you
Do not think of the past.

They do not look up to see even
The memory of the moon through
A fornication of post-midnight clouds- -

Stewardesses seem to float above
The earth as you lay down,
A hapless saint across the red clay of
A baseball diamond,

A red ghost tossing his foul balls across
A darkening earth.