#Americans #XXCentury
he used to sell papers in front: Get your winners! Get rich on a d… and about the 3rd or 4th race you’d see him rolling in on his ro… with roller skates underneath.
The next day was Saturday and Debra cooked us breakfast. “Are you coming antique hunting with us today?” We ate in silence for a while, then she said, “I liked your reading at The Lance...
have we gone wrong again? we laugh less and less, become more sadly sane. all we want is the absence of others.
man, he said, sitting on the steps your car sure needs a wash and wax… I can do it for you for 5 bucks, I got the wax, I got the rags, I… I need.
if you’re going to try, go all the way. otherwise, don’t even start. if you’re going to try, go all the way.
I don’t beat the walls with my fis… I just sit but it rushes in a tide of it. the woman in the court behind me h…
I went over the other day to pick up my daughter. her mother came out with workman’s overalls on. I gave her the child support money
I took Tanya to the airport the next afternoon. We had a drink in the same bar. The high-yellow wasn’t around; all that leg was with somebody else. “No. You love sex and there’s nothing...
almost dawn blackbirds on the telephone wire waiting as I eat yesterday’s forgotten sandwich
Born like this Into this As the chalk faces smile As Mrs. Death laughs As the elevators break
That Tuesday night we were sitting at my place drinking; Tammie, me and her brother, Jay. The phone rang. It was Bobby. “Louie and his wife are down here and she’d like to meet you.” Lo...
Bobby and Valerie came by and I introduced everybody around. “Valerie and I are going to take a vacation and rent rooms by the seashore in Manhattan Beach,” said Bobby. “Why don’t you g...
the essence of the belly like a white balloon sacked is disturbing like the running of feet on the stairs
he spoke to mice and sparrows and his hair was white at the age… his father beat him every day and… lit candles in the church. his grandmother came while the boy…
I get many phonecalls now. They are all alike. “are you Charles Bukowski, the writer?” “yes,” I tell them.