Friends embedded in the lines of second grade
Calligraphies: all the lush white faces looking over the
Turkeys of Christmas,
Their trailers twinkling, and I doubt now that you can
Even love me,
Because you have been astride that fellow too long
To stray apart,
Even if he has been your second hand devil:
You might come over tomorrow, Alma, and we might make
Love,
And we might even die together, spilling our guts,
Should he find out:
But that would just make us prematurely immortal
Too far beneath the beautiful mountains for the remains
Of our love to turn out;
But I know the road it takes to get to Disney World,
And I know the sun will rise,
As I have seen the light of your soul twirling its dun pinwheels
Like felicitous geysers practicing the turnstile ballets
From your innocent eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem