Charles Bukowski

the good life

a house with 7 or 8 people
living in it
getting up the rent.
there’s a stereo never used
and a set of bongos
never used
and there are rugs over the
windows
and you smoke
as the living roaches
stumble over buttons on your
shirt and tumble
off.
 
it’s dark and somebody sends
out for food. you eat the food
and sleep. everybody sleeps at
once: on floors, coffeetables,
couches, beds, in bathtubs. there’s
even one in the brush outside.
 
then somebody wakes up and
says, “come on, let’s roll
one!”
 
a few others wake up.
“sure. yea. o.k.”
 
“all right. come on, somebody
roll a couple. let’s get it
on!”
 
“yeah! Let’s get it on!”
 
we smoke a few joints and then
we’re asleep again
except we reverse positions:
bathtub to couch, coffeetable to
rug, bed to floor, and a new one
falls into the brush
outside, and they haven’t yet
found Patty Hearst and Tim doesn’t
want to speak to
Allan.
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