A small pack of KoolAid,
a measure of my spit,
it fizzes better if you have
an INNY (God they do look nice) ,
and wait for things to blow.
They will, but in a minor way,
small bubbles make small troubles.
I lick it up, it curls my tongue,
and carry it to where it's warm.
The warmest place, of all,
did you not know?
To let it mix and match,
much later to dispatch
the liquid love that says I told you so.
The question is: 'Do you? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem