shit time
half drunk
I left her place
her warm blankets
and I was hungover
didn’t even know what town
it was.
I walked along and
I couldn’t find my car.
but I knew it was somewhere. and then I was lost
too.
I walked around. it was a
Wednesday morning and I could
see the ocean to the south.
but all that drinking:
the shit was about to pour
out of me.
I walked towards the
sea.
I saw a brown brick
structure at the edge
of the sea.
I walked in. there was an
old guy groaning on one of
the pots.
“hi, buddy,” he said.
“hi,” I said.
“it’s hell out there,
isn’t it?” the old guy
asked.
“it is,” I answered.
“need a drink?”
“never before noon.”
“what time you got?”
“11:58.”
“we got two minutes.”
I wiped, flushed, pulled up my
pants and walked over.
the old man was still on his pot,
groaning.
he pointed to a bottle of wine
at his feet
it was almost done
and I picked it up and took about
half what remained.
I handed him a very old and wrinkled
dollar
then walked outside on the lawn
and puked it up.
I looked at the ocean and the
ocean looked good, full of blues and
greens and sharks.
I walked back out of there
and down the street
determined to find my automobile.
it took me one hour and 15 minutes
and when I found it
I got in and drove off
pretending that I knew just as much
as the next
man.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
