Charles Bukowski

the loner

16 and one-half inch
neck
68 years old
lifts weights
body like a young
boy (almost)
 
kept his head
shaved
and drank port wine
from half-gallon jugs
 
kept the chain on the
door
windows boarded
 
you had to give
special knock
to get in
 
he had brass knucks
knives
clubs
guns
 
he had a chest like a
wrestler
never lost his
glasses
 
never swore
never looked for
trouble
 
never married after the death
of his only
wife
 
hated
cats
roaches
mice
humans
 
worked crossword
puzzles
kept up with the
news
 
that 16 and one-half inch
neck
 
for 68 he was
something
 
all those boards
across the windows
 
washed his own underwear
and socks
 
my friend Red took me up
to meet him
one night
 
we talked a while
together
then we left
 
Red asked, “what do you
think?”
 
answered, “more afraid to die
than the rest of us.”
 
haven’t seen either of them
since.
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