He's always in front
Of me on his bicycle in traffic.
When we're bumper to bicycle wheel
I get a really good look at his back.
He pulls his wool cap
Down over his thick, long dreadlocks.
He looks like a man with an octopus
On his shoulders trying to swallow his
Head. Tentacles flying
Around, groping for more of his body to grab,
Bulbous head bouncing.
He always turns
A corner before I can get a good look
At his face. I need to see the face
Of a man who wears his hair like that.
I need to see where he works and
What he does, where he lives, who
He loves and who loves him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i really like this. especially the octapus part... and the needing to know about him...