Stolen Bicycles Of That Week's Soap Operas Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Opening the curtains upon
A play no one cares for—the classroom
Is discontent
Or falling asleep—
The cars glide by the house that misses
The housewife,
The fox opens its mouth toward
The unobtainable grapes—
And there are fishes in the sea as there
Are stewardesses in the sky—
But none of them has ever noticed me—
They are all sleeping where they lay—
Siamese candles,
Star crossed lovers on their birthdays—
Stolen bicycles of that week's
Soap Operas,
Library books fallen from their satchels
And soaking up some morning's dews—
Words that never crossed your mind,
Words you never knew.