Fuzz
3 small boys run toward me
blowing whistles
and they scream
you’re under arrest!
you’re drunk!
and they begin
hitting me on the legs with
their toy clubs.
one even has a
badge. another has
handcuffs but my hands are high in the air.
when I go into the liquor store
they whirl around outside
like bees
shut out from their nest.
I buy a fifth of cheap whiskey
and
3
candy bars.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
