It was the year
man first walked
on the moon
but the third year running
you and your brother
walked the streets
of Edinburgh
and stayed
at the guesthouse
where the Yank guy
told you how
he was mugged
in some bog
at Waverly Station
I was in the stall
on the seat
when there was a banging
on the door
and someone yelled
open up I’m going to puke
so I did the
Yank said
and some guy
stole the wallet
from my pant’s pocket
and ran off
your brother sat
at the breakfast table
bemused
why did you open
the door?
you asked
well I guess I thought
it would help
the Yank said
holding his coffee cup
with both hands
you know
kind of threw me
off course
I’d have told the guy
to go puke elsewhere
your brother said
but he seemed desperate
the Yank said
looking at your brother
with a Humphrey Bogart gaze
won’t do that again
he said
sipping his coffee
you studied the guy’s plump face
his bulky frame
his sausage size fingers
the gold ring
on his third
right hand finger
his I LOVE AMERICA tee-shirt
his blue shorts
no matter
guess we all learn
from our mistakes
you said
next time
someone bangs
on the bog door
tell them
go puke on the floor
the Yank nodded his head
his Bogart impression
faded
to a saggy dog face
and you thought
gazing at
his blonde hair
there
but for the grace of God
go I
and your brother smiled
and winked a blue eye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem