Here comes the man! He's talking a lot
I'm sitting, by myself. I've got
A ticket to ride. Outside is, 'Out to lunch.'
It's no great pleasure, being on the make.
Well, who is? Or, well everyone is, tho.
'I'm laying there, & some guy comes up
& hits me with a billyclub!' A fat guy
Says. Shut up. & like that we cross a river
Into the Afterlife. Everything goes on as before
But never does any single experience make total use
Of you. You are always slightly ahead,
Slightly behind. It merely baffles, it doesn't hurt.
It's total pain & it breaks your heart
In a less than interesting way. Every day
Is payday. Never enough pay. A deja-vu
That lasts. It's no big thing, anyway.
A lukewarm greasy hamburger, ice-cold pepsi
that hurts your teeth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem