Find me in a poem,
I suppose that's
where it is,
in a simple selection
of everyday words,
when do you arrive,
or get here?
lose me if you want
in utter invention,
some of us
get used to that...
you just chuck in some
different kinds or blend them all together,
viola!
put your hand
on your heart,
not that one...
I know, but that's
not the real one,
and you should know
that I do too,
have the same one...
hand on mine,
taken with a fist!
you think I'm joking!
the closest I ever get
is when I'm kicking my
life into real space...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem