If in so doing
they could keep both of us alive and smart,
they'd pick one of the places
where we fit perfectly together,
pare everything around that place,
turn it into an oleo leg,
and have what they've wanted for many a year,
intelligent landing gear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oleo leg. Is there more to this? And who be they?