the dirty old man is eating
his favorite vanilla flavored oatmeal
he is mean and cheap
as he was in his younger days
filled with stories of his conquests
of the many women of the town
he looks at my wife his relative
he laughs and then looks back at me
and he said that it was all about a mother
growing the bones of a daughter
and a man comes along
boring a bigger hole inside her
she did not find it funny of course
something lewd is not laudable
i look at his mustache
some oatmeal got stuck somehow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem