Living on the Scandinavian streets have
humbled her. No Christmas cards with
a 20 spot anymore. No trust fund.
All the money vanished like
the last spider of vodka,
like a dropped bottle of beer.
She could go to a shelter by herself,
but she chooses life on the
streets in the brutal winter to be
with her broke Swedish boyfriend.
Love is lunacy- sometimes frozen.
Two dead friends last year on a
mad moonlit night.
human icicles on the Iowa City streets.
One time, while drunk, her and I stole
the neighbor's canoe. We had her
little black dog with us.
I dubbed him, Senator Ted Kennedy;
probably because we were all drunks.
(not the dog)I don't think...
We wrestled the canoe into the Iowa river,
and immediately proceeded to tip it over.
The canoe sank like a bad bet by
Hunter S. Thompson.
We could've easily drowned, but we
laughed our asses off, choking and splashing,
except Teddy, he swam for Boston.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An interesting poem that expresses in detail life's adventure. A well thought and crafted write.