I'm nervous on the sidewalk,
pacing back and forth
in my ruby red stilletos.
(I hope I look beautiful.)
I'm waiting under a full moon,
in front of your apartment,
eyes on my red-strapped watch.
(You're taking your time, beautiful.)
I'm growing impatient now;
and I look like a streetwalker
in my siren red strapless.
(The men say, 'Hello, Beautiful.')
I see you parking now, late as ever.
You're on the driver's side
of a blood-red Ferrari.
(I always thought that car was beautiful.)
You're stepping out of the car,
And walking to the other side
To hold open the red door.
(A gentleman...how beautiful.)
A woman steps out of the car:
A vixen if I ever saw one,
White smile parting shiny red lips.
(Now I don't feel so beautiful.)
You walk to your apartment door,
your hands, your lips all over her...
At last, you're caught red handed.
(You'd told ME I was beautiful...)
If this is how you treat the comely,
I'd rather be the repulsive Medusa
and stone you for your red deception.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem