Gambling for this new night
Down in the hollows,
Drinking my watered down spirits,
Hoping to see real life- moonlit humanity
Strolling by
Or cycling like spark lengths of
A bitter poem;
It has been such a long while since I collected
That mammalian press,
Since she was one dozen of my flowers,
Or I caught her auburn turn underneath the
Receptive lights of a supermarket;
And the parking lot is filled with domestic
Ghosts,
And the lake down past the delinquent graffiti
Of the suburban grotto still
Floats rosy tampons like summer camp lotus’
And I never did hold her hand;
I was just wishfull thinking somewhere
Lost in the middling crowd,
While the clouds got up to suntan above the sea,
And my family celebrated a long succession of
Birthdays under the homeless swing sets
And pine trees;
And I suppose I’ll never see her again,
That beautiful memory lost yet more quixotic than
Every wave in the advancing sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your poem sir is one of the most benevolent poems present in PoemHunter.com. The memory of your beautiful poem is the most exotic memory I have and I shall bear it with utmost care.