He looked about fifteen,
leaving slovenly against the
wall of the local post office;
Eyes showing the animation
of a dead fish.
His face errupting with zits of
various sizes and colours, and
teeth I'd rather not describe.
Attired in the fashion of the day;
Long shorts with crotch nearly
touching the ground - topped off
with a once white T-shirt, USA
emblazoned front and back.
Curiosity made me ask the question.
'Are you American? ' He looked at me
blankly so I asked again. This time I got
his erudite answer - 'duh? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem