how come you’re not unlisted?
the men phone and ask me that.
are you really Charles Bukowski
the writer? they ask.
I’m a sometimes writer, I say,
most often I don’t do anything.
listen, they ask, I like your
stuff—do you mind if I come
over and bring a couple of 6
packs?
you can bring them, I say
if you don’t come in...
when the women phone, I say,
o yes, I write, I’m a writer
only I’m not writing right now.
I feel foolish phoning you,
they say, and I was surprised
to find you listed in the phone book.
I have reasons, I say,
by the way why don’t you come over
for a beer?
you wouldn’t mind?
and they arrive
handsome women
good of mind and body and eye.
often there isn’t sex
but I’m used to that
yet it’s good
very good just to look at them—
and some rare times
I have unexpected good luck
otherwise.
for a man of 55 who didn’t get laid
until he was 23
and not very often until he was 50
I think that I should stay listed
via Pacific Telephone
until I get as much as
the average man has had.
of course, I’ll have to keep
writing immortal poems
but the inspiration is there.
Altre opere di Charles Bukowski...
