We'd drink something that'd give a good boot
Something strong
He'd tell me about Dylan T
the boathouse
the scenery
how he'd party with the worst of them
show 'em how it's done
and maybe
somewhere between
the laughs and the re-fills
it would spiral downward
to past loves
ideals
the occasional awkward stare
and lip-bite silence
Then we'd part ways
fluff-brained
wobbly
and forget what we'd learned
about each other by the morning
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem