I was packed with Valentine flowers, R.S. called
god would pray for him, a hungry man.
he took off the sandwich wrapper and handed me a
free coffee, and a pink slip.
Would you mind a cup of coffee? he grinned.
sure, I love to, she replied.
after they both had a sext, he past her a
free coffee, his wife's spiffy.
On the icy storm night
they came into the room to ward off their worries.
hang their filthy coats in a rotisserie.
they freezed, drank vodka and ate some calamari.
You sliced an apple and gave to a pathetic punk,
and a sexty man and a snobbish boss, each a
free hot coffee, cream 'n sugar and a bullet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem