Slurry being place on roads of disrepair, doing much of not-
hing, except pretending to fill in pot holes.
Letting everything go by, not wanting to be bothered with
requests from people living on the street they're paving.
Nothing going to happen, leaving, going home, not wanting to
miss their favorite t.v. shows, relaxing, done for now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem