As The Housewives Caught Their Own Rides Poem by Robert Rorabeck

A Disney World—Flatulent—
Buzzing flies all blue and glossy underneath
Where the airplanes fly—
Where the tarps flap, something grotesquely opulent—
I haven’t drunken in years: now make believe
Dolls are in the morgue,
Crying—beautifully silent, breathless—
Filled with a thousand bonfires extinguished
And upon their shelves,
Pestilent—the sororities I’d left behind all of them
Making love beside their graveyards
In the houses they could never own—
Lights flashing off and on—
Placing themselves in harm’s way and the lands
Flooding elegantly as the housewives caught their own
Rides home.