you in black shirt
wet with sweat
on a blue train
in the city
you are holding
a bottle of beer
on your side is
the dalmatian
without the usual
rope in your hand
things run smoothly
like the train
like the round body
of the bottle of beer
like your dog
lying on the floor
of the train
one night
when all the
passengers
are gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem