Charles Bukowski

Post Office. Chapter II: 17

Each night as I got ready to go on in, Joyce had my clothing laid out on the bed. Everything was the most expensive money could buy. I never wore the same pair of pants, the same shirt, the same shoes two nights in a row. There were dozens of differ– ent outfits. I put on whatever she laid out for me. Just like mama used to do.

I haven’t come very far, I thought, and then I’d put the stuff on.

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