In Disney World Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Found in a grotto of cash- bound to make money
While the dogs howl-
The moon is round but sharp, and she is stealing things from
The supermarket:
She is out of control, but going down the ancient highway.
While my love may be a firework:
She may last for awhile, and cost too much,
But she may not even be real-
And standing there beside the road, watching the trucks drive
Through the night,
The orange groves an entire heavens in pinpricks of silver flowers,
I go towards her, not wanting to find her in Disney World,
But expecting that is where she probably is.