In The Hallucinations Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Open the windows of airplanes- and look
Down as if angels
In the parks, in the nudity of their swings-
And think of the joy that echoes
Up from the swollen armpits
Of those trunks-
And the runny entrails of honey that go
To waste amidst the pine trees,
As you dance before me, turning in the hallucinations
Of a windmill-
Of a Ferris wheel, as the final orchestras of
A summer day cloud over,
And we can sit in the cooling recesses with the
Sleeping snakes,
To watch all of the housewives proceed back indoors.