Sluggo said to me
In his erudite way
"F_ _ _ you."
Then he punched my face
Through the wall
Old Joe, the bartender
Laughed
Gave the galoot another
Beer
Compliments of the house
Me, I rearranged my nose
Stuck my pennies
Back in my loafers
Limped across the street
To more comfortable
Confines
Hanging plants and steaming
Cappuccino
With just a hint of cinnamon.
(Previously published in Bulk Head, Vol.1, Issue 2, Fall 2000)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yeah baby...from violence to cappuccino...hints of reality...good write...Coach