While driving north
past Starbucks and the pizza place on the corner
you cut me off so that you could turn east
at the yellowing light
My day was already going poorly,
and I hadn't eaten in hours,
and I was distracted by whiskers blossoming
on my face and neck
which I planned to take care of when I got home.
You never heard,
but I shouted behind closed windows
that I hoped you'd never find love,
and if you'd already found love
that it would evaporate like Coca Cola
on a hot sidewalk
leaving a brown stain
covered in ants
You never heard,
but I wanted to say that I was sorry.
I've lost love
and I'm covered in ants I can't shave off,
no matter how sharp my regret becomes.
You shouldn't have cut me off,
but I wished to cut you off from happiness.
My bad.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem