Whirlwinds spinning quickly, soap being flung on cars, one after
another, washing then rinsing each one going through the carwash
here on Signal Butte.
Reminding this poet of the past as my Dad would take us through the
carwash, being excited, looking out the windows, laughing, giggling
as soap and water were being flung at us, but never getting us wet.
Dad was great, showing us the reality of our lives in an expressive and creative way, happy memories treasured in life, because it's filled with many hardships and suffering through the years.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem