A Nice Day
the virus holds
the concepts give way like rotten
shoelaces
toothache and bacon dance on the
lawn
I open a drawer to dirty
stockings
a stockbroker’s universe
steel balls flutter like
butterflies
I can feel doom like
something under the sheets with bristles
that stinks and moves
toward me
the mailman is insane and
hands me a bagful of snails
eaten inside
out
by some rat of decay
in the madhouse a man kisses the walls
and dreams of sailboating down some
cool Nile
I read about the bullfights the ballgames
the boxing matches
things continue to fight
and in the churches they play at parlor
games and peek at legs
I go outside to absolutely
nothing
a square round of orange zero
headpieces over obscene mouths that form
at me like suckerfish
good morning, nice day isn’t it?
a fat woman says I am unable to answer
and down the sidewalk I go shamed
unable to tell her
of the knife inside me
I do notice though the sun is shining
that the flowers are pulled up on
their strings
and I on mine:
belly, bellybutton, buttocks, bukowski
waving walking
teeth of ice with the taste of tar
tear ducts propagandized
shoes acting like shoes
I arrive on time
in the blazing midday of
mourning.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
