These Unobtainable Delights Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The city pulsates with the need to blow its excuses;
A spider worships vermilion from deep in the contours of
Its web: the whole world is vermilion and the cars
Are just the dreams that cannot be caught:
Nor would it have a desire to; but it sees the housewives as pink
Clouds that come out onto the yards sometimes and remove
More of their thoughts,
While the silver cars are away: then the spider stops its
Eviscerations for such awhile, and it almost has thoughts of drying
Clay:
There the housewives sit out strumming like stringed instruments
Across the green planes
Until the airplanes leap and seed the rains; and the spider
Holds its little spider breath and almost perceives of what it can never
Say,
While these unobtainable delights slip through its yards of sky.