cold and lonely
doesn’t have to be
the way it is
even though we like to be sad
we all feel the same way
but we just can’t connect
-another hunched body-
-another vanishing face-
i laugh there’s a rich girl wearing designer jeans [ripped] a retro vest torn gloves and graymakeup to make it look like she’s been up all night onthestreet writing raw poetry onto trashpaperbags on a streetcorner
(i laugh when she passes the poor man she’s
imitating)
in this city
we don’t need love
just the warmth of a body
those holes in your apartment
where do they lead?
not to some animal’s den
or a cave full of treasure
more likely a trash grotto
polluted
you focus on the rain
but you just can’t see it fall
it clouds your eyes
remember what was said about
worms
and
kings
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem