there was a dank smell
when returning from Mohegan
to the tenement in the Bronx
summer wasn't yet over
and steam rose from the sidewalks
to offer me a stunted aroma
as a fitting substitute
for sweet pine, spruce and oak
and I could not forgive
the pavement for lacking judgement
for its crude statement of equivalence
leaving no doubt who would
govern the next ten months
in its very first offered scent
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem