This poem driving along
in his rat-trap eyes a sign
says BED test Monday
thinks perhaps job offer;
convinces himself he can
get it. He's depressed-
bed expert sure-
rents a couch
friend's living room,
who now says: Move,
because the wife-
his wife- makes noise
at night, you know.
Confident he can test
beds, Poem returns
to the sign, to the place
early Monday, suited,
with resume- sees
G.E.D Test Monday
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem