Eddie and Eve
you know
I sat on the same barstool in Philadelphia for
5 years
I drank canned heat and the cheapest wine
I was beaten in alleys by well-fed truck drivers
for the amusement of the
ladies and gentlemen of the night
I won’t tell you of my life as a child
it’s too sickening
unreal
but what I mean
I finally went to see my friend Eddie
after 30 years
he was still in the same house
with the same wife
you guessed it:
he looked worse than I did
he couldn’t get out of his chair
a cane
arthritis
what hair he had was
white
my god, Eddie, I said.
I know, he said, I’ve had it, I
can’t breathe.
then his wife came out. the once slim
Eve I used to flirt with.
210 pounds
squinting at me.
my god, Eve, I said.
I know, she said.
we got drunk together. it was several hours later
Eddie said to me,
take her to bed, do her some good,
I can’t do her any good any
more.
Eve giggled.
I can’t Eddie, I said, you’re my
buddy.
we drank some more.
endless quarts of beer.
Eddie began to vomit.
Eve brought him a dishpan
and he vomited into the
dishpan
telling me between spasms
that we were men
real men
we knew what it was all about
by god
these young punks
didn’t have it.
we carried him to bed
undressed him
and he was soon out,
snoring.
I said goodbye to Eve.
I got out and got into my car
and sat there staring at the house.
then I drove off.
it was all I had left to do.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
