The Oldest Cities Of This World Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Not far from my eyes
In a jungle of grey and silver gold,
Where the conquistadors once fought for
Your mother,
And the airplanes got stuck like tattle-tales
Up in the trees;
And the most beautiful place was the capitol
Where all of the ineligible women lived
In a hypothetical university where they
Studied heart-throbs—
And it was here that the shadows panhandled them
While my pregnant wife breathed heavily from
Our bedroom: here was where the muses
That could not handle it
Laid themselves—across the habit of that
Campus, just a fever-dream too old now
To even complete their degree—
Their eyes fawning drunkenly, perceive
The habitats I imagine, taking homes in the
Half-glows of the sleeping habitats in the oldest
Cities of the world.