every time i have sex--
which isn't often these days--
i get anxious. i worry
i haven't measured up.
i fall asleep sometime between
the third beer and the fourth,
and i feel rotten when
i wake up in the morning.
i don't smoke. i'm scared
of cancer, and i don't
understand the act:
set fire to a leaf, and
suck it? why on earth?
i've only ever hit
one man. a lucky shot.
i hate violence of
any kind, it's stupid.
i'd like to see all guns
melted down; their metal
could make beds
for the homeless!
or cheap cars to ferry
all the children on the streets
to school. i'm a fan
of schools, and learning.
all a kid learns
on the streets
is how to shout, and spit.
that's my opinion.
charles bukowski
would have hated me.
but eliot, now there's
a man i could have
gone to tea with!
3 comments:
don't think i could have spent much time with buk either - seldom drink, don't fight, etc....
enjoyed the poem
Thanks, Tom. I said on my myspace site that Buk was really an academic pansy in hiding. Wanted to see if it would wind up his legions of admirers. But nobody bit.
When I read Bukowski, nowadays, I can't understand what I ever saw in him. Yet I went through a phase where I read nothing else. Go figure.
Post a Comment