Charles Bukowski

my special craving

what is it about lobsters and crabs?
those white-pink shells
that always make me hungry just
looking at them there
in the butcher’s display case
tossed casually one upon the other
so kind and pink and waiting.
even alive they make me hungry.
used to unload them from trucks
for the kitchen at the Biltmore Hotel,
and they looked dangerous
moving about in their slatted boxes
but still they made me
hungry. there is something about
crabs and lobsters
they deserve to be eaten,
they go so well with
french fries, french bread, radishes
and beer. they tell me that they boil them
alive, and this does
cause some minor sense of disturbance within
me, but outside of that
lobsters and crabs are one of the few things
that make the earth a happy place.
suppose that this is my special
craving. when driving along the beachfront
and I see a sign,
LOBSTER HOUSE, my car turns in of its own
accord. (if a man can’t allow himself a
few luxuries
he just isn’t going to last very
long.) crabs, beer, lobsters,
 
an occasional lady,
or 3 days a week at the track,
my small daughter bringing me a bottle of beer
from the refrigerator while
grinning proudly,
there are some wonderful things in life,
let each man find his own)
say lighting my cigar,
thinking about Sunday night lobster dinner,
love love love
running wild,
feels good sometimes just to be living
with something so nice
in store.
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