in the lobby
saw him sitting in a lobby chair
in the Patrick Hotel
dreaming of flying fish
and he said “hello friend
you’re looking good.
me, I’m not so well,
they’ve plucked out my hair
taken my bowels
and the color in my eyes
has gone back into the sea.”
sat down and listened
to him breathe
his last.
bit later the clerk came over
with his green eyeshade on
and then the clerk saw what I knew
but neither of us knew
what the old man knew.
the clerk stood there
almost surprised,
taken,
wondering where the old man had gone.
he began to shake like an ape
who’d had a banana taken from his hand.
and then there was a crowd
and the crowd looked at the old man
as if he were a freak
as if there was something wrong with him.
got up and walked out of the lobby
went outside on the sidewalk
and I walked along with the rest of them
bellies, feet, hair, eyes
everything moving and going
getting ready to go back to the beginning
or light a cigar.
and then somebody stepped on
the back of my heel
and I was angry enough to swear.
Altre opere di Charles Bukowski...
