Those Silhouettes Of The Wind-Tunnels Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Burn my throat by those silhouettes
Of the wind-tunnels the airplanes
Flew into on Christmas
Back on the day in Catalonia when
I was a sophomore—
And the words spread like slip streams
For the muses
I didn't yet believe I would never
Have—pale girls from
High school I kept in love
With for a decade
As they were married and birth
Children,
And the snows melted from the
Mountains every summer—
And the tourists came up
To their doorsteps
Trying to imagine the heavens
They could never have.