in 
Germany France Italy
I can walk down the streets and be
followed by
young men laughing
young ladies 
giggling and
old
ladies turning their noses
up…
 
while
in America
I am just another
tired
old man
doing whatever
tired old men
do.
 
oh, this has its
compensations:
I can take my pants
to the cleaners or
stand in a
supermarket line
without any
hubbub at 
all:
the gods have allowed me
a gentle
anonymity.
 
yet 
at times
I do consider my
overseas fame
and
the only thing
I can come up with is
that
I must have some
great motherfucking
translators.
 
I must
owe them
the hair on my
balls
or 
possibly
 
my balls
 
themselves.