pot hole dotted road
cars snaking slowly
gingerly navigating
swaying, bouncing
i could see their faces
contorting, not please
this is not in far east, i confess
but rather in heart of america
trash decorated walkways
dirt dance with playful wind
colorful collage, food wrappers
sticking to chicken wire mesh
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem