'So when? '
She cried,
'will we get married? '
Next fall he replied.
Next Fall?
I may not be alive!
She spied
with squinty eyes
and nice breasts
leaving the rest
up to chance.
'What about the dance? '
and the shoes and dress
and band and tux
and friends? '
That's fine
he said
we'll have time
I'm sure
for all of that.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem