bad fix
old Butch, they fixed him
the girls don’t look like much
anymore.
when Big Sam moved out
of the back
inherited big Butch,
70 as cats go,
old,
fixed,
but still as big and
mean a cat as anybody
ever remembered
seeing.
he’s damn near gnawed
off my hand
the hand that feeds him
couple of
times
but I’ve forgiven him,
he’s fixed
and there’s something in
him
that doesn’t like
it.
at night
hear him mauling and
running other cats through
the brush.
Butch, he’s still a magnificent
old cat,
fighting
even without it.
what a bastard he must have been
with it
when he was 19 or 20
walking slowly down
his path
and I look at him
now
still feel the courage
and the strength
in spite of man’s smallness
in spite of man’s scientific
skill
old Butch
retains
endures
peering at me with those
evil yellow eyes
out of that huge
undefeated
head.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
