The Paper Airplanes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Doing good echoes as the airplanes
Fly like
Crows above the classroom or in the trees:
They remain there harping above
The fading pornography inside
Of the junked cars,
While there is nothing else happening-
Except the rain
Over the abandoned children- Where
Do they exist now
Like lavender in a trailer park,
Like something soft and beautiful peeling
At the edges that the housewives gossip
About but cannot truly grasp,
As they smoke cigarettes over the tree
Frogs and daydream of the men who
Will never truly belong to them,
As the paper snowflakes fall,
As the paper airplanes fly.