As randy as a young bull in the spectral
Ovoid of its first dance;
This is how I met you, and I will never meet you
Again,
But for that one night underneath the commuting
Airplanes
I addressed you: I breathed atop you like a bee
With ribs:
I kissed you once and apologized;
I made you sigh, or made you pretend to sigh:
And the room was weird,
But the room was ours,
And I enjoyed all I could, dancing madly, crashing
Into things just as happily to be getting nowhere
Across the fieldtrip of your opportunistic flowers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem