Garrison Keilor's "A Writer's Almanac"

So while i've been out of the midwest, i've been keeping up with the news from lake wobegon by podcast. A few weeks ago, the poem seemed very appropriate, so here it is:
Eve Robelard "Jetlag"
He flies over the ocean to see his girl
his Sorbonne girl, his ginger-skinned girl
waiting for him in the city of light
everywhere river and almost spring gardens
everywhere bridges and rainy statues
streets going nowhere
streets going on all night
i love you my mona my lisa my cabage my gargoyle
Degas' little dancer in dawn's ragged gown.
But on the third day
she picks up her books
tells him she needs to study
she adores this town
she's not coming home in May
she going to stay all summer
lowers her morning calm eyes.
He's alright in the cab
alright on the plane, dronning him home
in only three hours American
key in lock now
his tick tock apartment
shiver his shadow, his need to sleep
then, with the tiredness washing over and over him
and through his raveling bones
he begins to know