downtown
in a street of tired neon
between a yawning whorehouse
and a bar whose regulars
can no longer remember its name
there's a small door with the sign
Bukoholics Anonymous
it's worth going in
to read the sgrafiti
in the restrooms
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A humorous and nifty impersonation (of Buky-boy, of course) .