The ubiquity of tattoes makes me yearn for
The Elder Days. No, not the lifestyle, silly,
Ancient times possess an exotic beauty
Untarnished by reality. Put down the glass
Pipe and listen to me, champ. Suffragettes
Wore white for a reason. Ignore the surrounding
Hipsters. They will age into regret just like the
Rest of us. The dancing little people can get on
One’s nerves. The disco ball makes no difference.
Time for Persian mages to confer. They practice
Meth lab science over crumbling and scrolled
papyrus starmaps seeking options and menus.
Pow! Pow! Pow! Look at how she jiggles like Mata
Hari on steroids and amphetamines. Stare into
My third eye and tell me what you see. So it
Looks like a Magic Eight Ball. The journey of a
Thousand miles starts with sensible shoes.
The Buddha said no suffering is necessary.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem