Their Favorite Pilots Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Comets long in the tooth
Shooting curve balls over stolen bicycles—
Here they are peppering the earth—
Graveyard of adolescent boys—
Alligators and iguanas crawl over them
And pitch their tents:
Bottle-rockets and paper airplanes fly
Over them—
And then underneath the silver—toothed moon,
And werewolves—they are gone:
School is out for the summer again—
And mothers have forgotten their missing children:
Girls in a kindergarten sorority send their
Love letters up to their favorite pilots—
Blowing them kisses,
As the otters swim through the chains of estuaries
That keep the housewives separated and
Perfectly contented.