The Nights In The Airplanes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

As fine as the memories of those windows:
Glad expressions of personified houses
Making eyes with the alligators perpetually lounging
In the backyard dredged of their domain:
And when they have a reason to feel her, in the rain
Storm,
Before her husband or children come home—
She waits beating inside of them like a heart that
Moves around according to her chores
And drinks from a tiny village of crystal glasses—
Hypnotized though erect,
So to her each raindropp has a voice she cannot understand—
Listening to the sky falling into the earth,
Like a sorority into a football game—drowning out
What is left of her soap-operas—the house a glowing
Giant because she is somewhere off inside of him—
Like a habitat made for her,
The alligator looking across the moats and up into her
Seclusion—not a thought in her mind—
While the knights in the airplanes quest for her
Forlornly from the sky.