I can have
an island
and,you can't.
You might make it
to the shore,
but, never
through the sand.
I could build a hut,
tomorrow,
and you'd be running
someone's
shower.
And, if that's mean,
its no meaner
than you are.
peeking
at the clock,
still waist deep,
to check
the hour.
When it is
what it is
there's no room for
pretenses.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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