Walking into that bar,
the black lights unearthed lost ancestry.
The entire tree was blooming,
from the tattoo-sleeved Neandertahl,
through the bounce'n Cromagnon,
all the way up to the Cardigan Homosapien.
Every flora packed together,
perfuming the whole basin
mingling Musk and Armani Code,
filling it with slurred notes
of Johnny Cash and Cartel.
The night advanced, loosing sentience,
leveling every step off,
raising the Neandertahl;
while Miller's gravity
lowered each Homosapien.
With each crack of the cue ball,
each fauna was scared closer together,
until their bodies curiously touched,
and the bar lost sight of anthropology.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem