Ace Ventura was a lucky man.
He lived freely like a wild beast.
He knew how to get me.
He made my bed like a trap of lust.
He roamed the mountains in quest.
His muscles bulged like roman candles flickering a flame.
He made me feel longing, by the sway of his hips.
His love he proclaimed with luxury imbibed.
He loved to race cars and soared with carelessness.
When he kept his enemies close, they kept him closer.
He could ward evil off with the snap of his finger.
His fingers burry a hole in my soul for only him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very interesting poem...