Charles Bukowski

Van Gogh

vain vanilla ladies strutting
while van Gogh did it to
himself.
 
girls pulling on silk
hose
while van Gogh did it to
himself
in the field
 
unkissed, and
worse.
 
pass him on the street:
how’s it going, Van?”
 
dunno, man,” he says
and walks on.
 
there is a blast of color:
one more creature
dizzy with love.
 
he said,
then,
want to leave.
 
and they look at his paintings
and love him
now.
 
for that kind of love
he did the right
thing
 
as for the other kind of love
never arrived.
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