Without Rainbows Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Dancing man with married fingers,
You still wait for the girls
To get off the bus
Sweaty and discombobulated as
The airplanes fly:
They crease their brows once or twice,
And then try to swing their
Hips over the side-
Pretty, but without rainbows,
And the numbers
Somehow manage to win- and in the night,
Through his married windows,
He thinks he’s going to
Get you again-
As the night sky is blue and creaseless,
And all of the stewardesses and all of the
Waves have gone somewhere
Else, and it is just like an empty injustice
Spread over an empty wedding table
Another bachelor is weeping over
In the deep, deep south.