Mcintosh is an apple-
and my obscure neighbor # 11
He of tall slim wondering shy
wrinkled stormy clothes
red hair and beard scraggle
Handsome though yes, perhaps
beneath that beer batter crust, well
in that moody sepia sort of way
Too too too bad though, a shame
his green eyes turn into Calaveras frogs
jumping away at the dropp of a 'hi'
And then his low sigh, all hear it
They don't get it, I do
See, our dear dear Mcintosh
His is a core he hides
And when glanced upon
it makes him feel peeled
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem