I like it in the hangar desert rust
And rail rust in the city's twilight zone
That mixed the song of tired shore ice moan
With busy tunnels' underground thrust.
I like the sound of a penknife cast
Diffracting on the chalk-age fossil bones,
The walking trail that hectically roams
And poker fear of a patrol bust.
I like to be as tall as rustling cane
Approaching a rippling water chain.
I like to yell, "Akela, save the game!"
I like to measure silence with a lead.
And live in the crosshair of the aim,
And recollect it when I go to bed.
Original: www.stihi.ru/2008/05/30/2771