Charles Bukowski

Post Office. Chapter IV: 14

Marina Louise, Fay named the child. So there it was, Marina Louise Chinaski. In the crib by the window. Looking up at the tree leafs and bright designs whirling on the ceiling. Then she’d cry. Walk the baby, talk to the baby. The girl wanted mama’s breasts but mama wasn’t always ready and I didn’t have mama’s breasts. And the job was still there. And now riots. One tenth of the city was on fire . . .

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