This seems
too good to be true
and it turns out
I am right.
I have all the money
in the world
and I own every restaurant
in downtown San Francisco
but what I don't have
is a place
to actually call my home.
I do not have a mother
to guide me to the right decisions
nor to I have a wife
to call my own.
I do not have children
to chase around
and tickle and tuck in at night.
nor do I have a friend
who I can tell everything to
like how the Giants won
and how the season is going well
or about how I spilled my coffee
on my favorite tie,
the one with the little dogs
that remind me of Winn-Dixie,
my childhood dog.
My success was too good to be true
and though some people are happy
with their dollars and cents
I am most certainly not
because I don't have anyone else
except myself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem