Another Drive-Thru Heaven Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In the morning the sun
And other things—other things all around
The avenues of their places will unfold
In the mechanical ways of the petals
Of their diurnal births—
Pretty women diademing their
Cul-de-sacs,
And rotten boys in their canoes
Going either way as long as it isn’t straight to
School—
The world was made to be this way,
The housewives shut into their smoldering dins,
As the angels on roller-skates float through
Another drive-thru heaven.