Whoever really knows
what goes
on
after class.
she drove to her (boy) friend's house
down on the end
where they'd lay on the bed
not touching.
later on, in a bathroom stall
he called it quits
stopping in fits and spurts and
it's been another long day
down on Brinson St.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem