Come back.
I wave to the bus
dripping with sky.
Dust hits my fool’s
eye as you listen
to your song but
a wave is just a palm.
You go away with your
legs and your thoughts.
Pass into the night,
break into the quiet.
All things go away.
Here I’ll stay until
I, to, can be somewhere
else.
Hopefully that time will be soon.
But for now I’ll go back
home and plan my next escape
from the bitter two-pence
smiles of poor
men
and continual taunting
from
horse-whisperers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'a wave is just a palm. You go away with your legs and your thoughts.' That's the strongest part of the poem because it's a fresh point of view. Very creative.