I know it is your birthday, George
and you have plans all day,
I only need your answer now
today, my friend, today.
Have you once felt the titillation
of foreign skin, of luscious lips
of breasts with unbeknownst dimensions,
and of no fragrance drifting in?
Does one not need the laws of physics,
the tangible of real worlds,
to have one's senses in alertness
or are there laws that govern dreams?
And you, the wise one, must reveal
what secrets do exist for me.
Are we the victims of the spirits
that play their lusty games with us?
Is it the greening of the valley,
the comfort of the river's mumble,
or clouds which can descend upon
our comfort zones and dump their load
or has our soul just sensed its mate
through atmospheres that are unknown?
I know I cannot now prevail,
must let you go on distant journeys
but tell me George, can it be real
to feel a touch that can't be there?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.