Parable Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I am an echo underneath the airplanes: they
Keep going places,
But it is only to make money while all of the goldfish
Sit and languish
So much like housewives:
It is an unbusied, somnambulant enterprise:
But they do it—
This is the same as all of our truancies—voices of
Strange children outside of the bedrooms of my house:
While I no longer give flowers to any woman
Not even my wife—
I get drunk on the evening of good Friday,
And remember there is a god at the end of the rainbow—
Like a Titan at the end of the beanstalk
That I wish to climb up to and steal from:
As he tries to wed the stewardesses he has kidnapped
While giving nothing special back to the world,
As the chicken crosses to street to try and make it to
The other side.