I have this sailboat under my
Left eye- it doesn’t diminish even
When I sail out in it looking for you-
But I used to be beautiful,
I used to be good and young,
And the sea is so immense-
Herself the usual beautiful woman,
The real estate agent,
The Avon lady
Flaunts herself something like a
Pantheistic bombshell-
Broad sided, variegated lips billboards
For casinos,
Waves and sharks-
She comes to drink my milk shake,
But there are no heroes on the boat
Under my eye:
It is only one of the newer, more damaging
Scars- I get them as I drive back home
To weep,
As she leaps and shines and laughs,
Thrusting the bosom of her unappreciative
Tide after me;
And it is ugly and doesn’t rhyme,
But I will never look away.
Even my body will point the way
How her beauty betrayed me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
searching, striving to admonish oneself of the superficial lure, the attraction...mind against the genetic drive. great read, Mr. R. hitting close to home. -T