I smile at the buzz.
I could stand on my desk
yank the cord
and chase the sucker
around my bedroom.
Wave my hat about.
Throw magazines at the ceiling.
It always ends in loneliness
and death.
I smile at the buzz.
My desk is for writing and drinking.
I only yank corks and myself
in this sucker's bedroom.
My hat stays where it always has.
I throw lamps at the walls.
I know how this ends.
I smile at the buzz.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem