A gray crowed bus
Delivered me to your door,
You must not
Have been expecting me.
For I saw-
Neat, little lumps of dirty glitter
Rolling off of small town eyes,
Crack-men puffing,
Bars of steel bent on
Fake diamond ware
Cars pushing, nose to butt,
Strangers, intimately twine
And twine again -
A rendezvous unplanned.
Your fine lace was
Left carelessly about
Under damp bridges
And culverts
Shivering to keep warm.
Faint remembrances-
Hollywood, sweet cascading stars,
While a camera rolls.
A grayer bus pulled out,
As I tugged my knees
To my chest to keep the tears
From spilling out and spoiling
The faded luster from my mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem