Five times I had to flick the lighter
I counted between writing the poem
While looking at the other people
In the overly windy and cold smoking corner
Thinking hopefully that only bars like this
Would let these people in
I'd hop the fence to get outa here but security would chase me
Thinking I stole someone's purse
I'd steal more than that
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem