His safety net is wet and still he jumps.
He takes a flying leap peeing on himself!
And in his throat he feels a lump.
He wishes to play the hero...
From Nordic days envisioned.
With a tall stature he stretches to flex...
Long of head.
Light skin and hair,
With blue eyes...
All perfected to precision.
Grasping a mirror,
And at his reflection he stares.
He becomes captivated!
But his contacts fall out.
Flying upward into the air.
His toupee sweeps from his hold.
He lands on his feet from a two foot leap...
Expecting applause!
But no one is awed.
Except an ego he prides,
As he declares himself the victor!
Passing a few who stand by,
With raised eye brows as he strides.
He loves the pretense,
Of convincing himself...
He,
If he so desired to exploit his power.
Would be available if invited,
To explore his next event...
From the Sears Tower!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem