The austere beauty of a dry dock
with singing seagulls
cold concrete ramparts
and swearing, sweaty men
define the majesty of my city
my new city
of Cleveland.
The girls flow
a harem of curls and furry boots
of short shorts and malt beer
swift on the downtown streets
makes my head turn so fast
I get whiplash
I could sue every female in town
for personal injury.
But I won't
I'm too Casanova for that.
I'm too wishful and waitful.
Waiting for one to look back,
to turn as sharply and crane her neck,
saying, 'was that...no it couldn't be'
then, 'Yes, It's John! It's John McEwers! '
Yes, my girl, John is looking at you.
But that hasn't happened won't happen
till I'm famous.
But I will be.
I'm too strong to fail.
I'm too hopeful and willful.
Willing this Diamond city to give me my due.
to honor the talent within
with nice legs and good ham
and riches beyond that too.
I know you,
city,
I've belonged here since before ever.
And John is here to batter you with love and famousness
and make people stop making fun of you.
Your beauty need not be austere,
my cold concrete lover,
Put your best dress on,
I'll give you the moon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
make people stop making fun. thanks.