another bed
another bed
another woman
more curtains
another bathroom
another kitchen
other eyes
other hair
other
feet and toes.
everybody’s looking.
the eternal search.
you stay in bed
she gets dressed for work
and you wonder what happened
to the last one
and the one before that...
it’s all so comfortable—
this love-making
this sleeping together
the gentle kindness...
after she leaves you get up and use her
bathroom,
it’s all so intimate and so strange.
you go back to bed and
sleep another hour.
when you leave it’s with sadness
but you’ll see her again
whether it works or not.
you drive down to the shore and sit
in your car. it’s almost noon.
—another bed, other ears, other
ear rings, other mouths, other slippers, other
dresses
colors, doors, phone numbers.
you were once strong enough to live alone.
for a man nearing sixty you should be more
sensible.
you start the car and shift,
thinking, I’ll phone Jeanie when I get in,
I haven’t seen her since Friday.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
