one thirty in the afternoon
I call her phone
and ask her to breakfast,
she hurries to the diner
where I’ve already ordered
wearing too much make-up
still reeking of booze
she orders and complains
to me
that she’s still drunk.
when her food arrives
she thrusts payment
at the waiter,
an awkward silence occurs,
“you don’t usually pay until your done”
I say
“oh, the places I eat make you pay
right when you get your food”
I laugh and shake my head a little,
her make-up looks
as if it's been
applied by a child
playing dress up.
she is good looking though,
nice body,
beautiful hair.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really like this. You have a great descriptive 'raw' style that gets your message across. Nice work-TGR