Save The Pier
you shoulda been at this party,
I know you hate parties
but you seem to be at most of them.
anyhow, I took my girl, you know
her—
Java Jane?
yes, this party was at the merry-go-round
where they are trying to tear the pier down, you
know where that is?
yes, the red paint, the broken
windows—
yes, anyhow, my girl lives in a room just above the
merry-go-round. it’s a
birthday party for the woman who owns
the merrry-go-round.
she’s trying to save the pier
she’s trying to save the merry-go-round—
plenty of drinks for everybody, my girl lives in
the room right above the
merry-go-round.
sounds great.
I phoned. you weren’t
in.
it’s all right.
well, there was plenty to drink and they turned the
merry-go-round on, it was free, music and
everything.
sounds great.
my girlfriend and I got into an
argument, all the drinking—
of course.
I’m standing apart from her
she’s standing apart from me.
she’s got a glass of wine in her hand.
I give her a dark green deathly stare,
she’s stricken
she steps back
the thing is whirling
a horse’s hoof kicks her in the ass.
she drops down upon the spinning.
it all happens so fast—
but I do notice
that all the time she’s circling
to the music under those horses
she’s holding her glass upright
in order not to spill a
drop.
brave.
sure. only all the time her panties are
showing. glowing and glistening.
pink.
wonderful. how do they do it?
they conspire.
the glistening pink?
yes. so her panties are showing and I think
well, that’s all right but it probably looks
a hell of a lot better to them than it does to
me, so I moved a step forward and said,
Jane.
what happened?
she kept spinning around holding her drink up
showing her pink bottom... there seemed something
tenuous about it, deliciously inane...
stunted glory finally comes forth hollering...
exactly. she kept gliding around
legs outspread—
dizzied with life—
vengeful—
she must have cared for me to show her
panties to all those
people. anyhow, she kept sliding around
until her leg hit one of this guy’s legs—
he’d stepped forward for a closer look.
he was 67 years old and with his wife
and they were both
eating spaghetti off paper plates, anyhow,
my girl’s leg hit his
she came bouncing off on her ass
still holding the glass of wine upright.
I walked over and picked her up
and she still held it
level, then she lifted it and
drank it.
sounds like it was a
fine party.
I phoned. you weren’t
in.
spiderwebs of dripping
wet-dew sex like
badbreath dreams.
exactly. you should have been
there.
sorry.
Altre opere di Charles Bukowski...
