When I was 7
I fell in love
with the Chrysler Building.
It was 7th Heaven.
To me it wasn’t a building
but a poem in the shape of a building
or a piece of music played out in
shapes and bricks
or a beautiful run down the wing
in the shape of Georgie Best.
It was a collective...eclectic
...aesthetic...feeling.
I just loved the way
that it did what it had to do
and strove to go beyond itself
and dragged me with it.
Ok, so this wasn’t a building but...
a little bit of magic
materialised in brick and stone
(that wasn’t fooling no one)
I could see right through it
and see it
for what it was.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem