Tuesdays in my life bus fares
in disguise all ways waiting.
Windows foggy breath dulled
eyes hanging lids yet aware.
Ragged no cents hair matted
hands washed clean in thought.
Saving levels when depth haunts
brick streets counted forever.
Tuesday just past was when the
tires of the world fell off I with them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem