Love Unfulfilled By Circumstances Poem by Liberatore Suffoletta

happen to be sixty now; not yet tired of being a wolf
clinging to the notion of someday becoming a man
I still enter shops, restaurants and movie houses
I wonder where the child I was died
and whether his memories or sadness's
weigh more in my pockets?
I wonder where leaves go
to buy the yellow dresses and trousers
they always wear before committing suicide?
Impenetrable why some historical figures
have two syllable names
Gandhi, Buddha, Moses, Jesus
Hitler, Satan, Stalin, Nixon
Is Nixon trapped in hell where he is napalmed
randomly especially around Christmas time
Is he partly happy because he knows that although
Kissinger is more than two syllables he is going
to be joining him navigating a fire of lies and ashes.
What is the name of the new month
between november and december?
And since we have added more hours to the day
and more days to the months along with new
months to the years and years to our decades
How much longer do we remain young?
Forever? Infinitely? Till death?
Why does spring always wear green?
Does the sun have a patent on red and orange colors
and is nature forced to pay a fee in yellow gold
whenever dressing in those hues?
Is that the secret way the sun gets warm?
Why didn't Galileo see this?
I wonder when I return and see Pettorano
if Pettorano sees me and remembers me?
How am I to deal with the petition presented to me
by the salt marsh sea gulls, frogs and turtles requesting
that I stop using their thoughts in my writing?

Tell me, is there anything sadder than love unfulfilled
by circumstances?