Enjoying jam today (his Continental breakfast)
my lover poses like the Mona Lisa
in front of a spiky Italian rock.
'I'm no oil painting, ' he smiles (less than mysteriously) .
In his Mambo shirt he's more Gauguin than Da Vinci
or perhaps a Gioconda modified by Salvador Dali?
He has no Monet but his virtues are Manet
and I tell him I love him, with all my art....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem