There’s A Big Cloud In My Pants
(another translation of a poem by Mayakovsky as if mistranslated by Donald Trump)
There’s a big cloud in my pants
when I’m not with you
People assume the bulge
is my penis
which it is
but there’s also a cloud in there too
a really big one
Because when you’re not around
frankly, I get gloomy
ergo: my crotch gets gloomy too
How gloomy?
That’s a ridiculous question
Let’s just say
You wouldn’t want to be playing
golf down there, in the type of weather
that goes on in my pants
when I miss you
We’re talking storm clouds and thunder
and once in a while it rains gravel
which my doctor assures me is normal
for a man of my age
and self confidence
which is just the Russian English way of saying
my pants wouldn’t fit like this
if you’d just stopped going away like you do
Where are you right now?
Are you even listening?
There’s a cloud in my pants
and it’s raining cotton shaped opera
Believe me,
my cumulo starts going nimbus over here
Exclamation point
exclamation point
exclamation point
Every time
that you’re
gone
Multiverse Johnson 