Stew
stew at noon, my dear; and look:
the ants, the sawdust, the mica
plants, the shadows of banks like
bad jokes;
do you think we’ll hear
The Bartered Bride today?
how’s your tooth?
I should wash my feet and
clean my nails
not that I’d feel more like Christ
but
less like a leper—
which is important when
poverty is a small game you play
with your time.
let’s see: first the mailman
then yesterday’s copy of the Times.
we might
this way
get blown up a day too
late.
then there’s the library or
a walk down the boulevards.
many great men have
walked down the boulevards
but it’s terrible to be
a great man
like a monkey carrying a 5 pound
sack of potatoes up a 40 foot hill.
Paris can wait.
more salt?
after we eat
let’s sleep, let’s sleep.
we can’t make any money
awake.
Altre opere di Charles Bukowski...
