1Purple Shorts
Raspberry juice oozed
down our chins
and we didn’t care,
but crammed fistfulls
into our mouths
and our pockets
that hot July day.
We might have guessed
the fate of our treasure
had we thought about it
but who thinks
when time unrolls
in a languid loop
and summer stretches
forever?
The berry plants grew
way across the lake
so those in our pockets
stewed and squished
to a purple pulp
all down our fronts
by the time
we got back to the dock
nothing to do of course
but jump in the lake
clothes and all
and swim through raspberry swirls.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem