Airplanes like sugar cans with their
Leggy effervescence leaping over my head:
Going on sabbaticals of sunken mausoleums completely equipped
With mermaids:
And Alma, I didn’t know you a month before hand,
But I know you now,
And I enjoy buying you lunch and watching you eat habaneras
Out beneath the fox tail palms,
The way you did for me today, and then we both watched the
Imagine of the Virgin of Guadalupe appear in the lost window
Of my car,
Just as she appeared on that cape long ago in Mexico;
And you have come so far to get here,
Alma, but I pray you have yet so far to go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem