Charles Bukowski

funhouse

drive to the beach at night
in the winter
and sit and look at the burned-down amusement pier
wonder why they just let it sit there
in the water.
want it out of there,
blown up,
vanished,
erased;
that pier should no longer sit there
with madmen sleeping inside
the burned-out guts of the fun house...
it’s awful, I say, blow the damn thing up,
get it out of my eyes,
that tombstone in the sea.
 
the madmen can find other holes
to crawl into.
used to walk that pier when I was 8
years old.
Altre opere di Charles Bukowski...



Alto