Since this stay I've come to feel at home in this infested hotel room where, as the only jockey brave enough, me aboard Lady Luck, I win the roses in the daily run for the roaches.
Life's a human race where Truth is lost by blinders. I win what is real.
These roaches are real. Really thick as thoroughbreds, and just as fast. And Lady Luck would survive a nuclear blast. So, bugler, toot that horn. Be real. I got Lady Luck, and she's no unicorn.
Published by Other People's Flowers,2019
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem