on that street corner
next to the hot dog man
where the vagrant will take coin
'in any currency you got, lady'
it was two butterflies
about their own business, hovering
entwined in one another
that caught me
before you did
they fly
while men and women
with brisk strides
full of storied northern industry
pass, unaware of your look
that told me sunsets
boycott immortality for you
how you manage to strut
while sitting, I'll never know
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fantastic style, Eila, and interesting thoughts. -Tailor B.