In The Invalid Sky Poem by Robert Rorabeck

A bodies still moves with the stream-
In the dulled actions a more glorified man might have
Give a sky full of summers:
Now he hushes from the kitchen sink, and waits in
Line at the canal:
The slow vision of his uncommonly stupid work
Takes him,
Across the hooks of hold overs and latchkeys,
Truants who have ditched the unimpressed
Cheerleaders,
And found their way alone down the easement
Against the cones of spent fireworks:
Here he rides, like a canoe of ribs, missing bits of
Himself who have gone off to marry better men,
Anyways-
And this his delusion slowly peppered with the kisses
Of rummy ash hopefully shrouding the showboats
Of lovely angels and clandestined airplanes further up
In the invalid sky.