Someone Else's Promises Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Look at here—how the vampires reflect
Like diamonds inside a kaleidoscope
Turned towards the moon in the middle of
The day—a commercial airplane on the
Lens like a fly—the magic is all but paid for,
As she yawns in the middle of the
Yard the boys have left off from their sports.
Now, as if from some witch’s spell,
The entire atmosphere seems absent,
And the puppets have turned from their
Fires—busses filled with school children
Are still turning around—they seem like the jaundiced
Entrails of some disastrous menagerie,
But they are just heading into school—
And the sun is up and leaping in a widely stretched
Bow across the earth—in playgrounds across
Town the dogs are running—
Women are getting laid like omelets—
And the pigeons are turning towards homes which
Are not theirs with someone else’s promises
Clenched between their teeth.