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Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski

Women: 75

That night I gave another bad reading. I didn’t care. They didn’t care. If John Cage could get one thousand dollars for eating an apple, I’d accept $500 plus air fare for being a lemon.

It was the same afterwards. The little coeds came up with their young hot bodies and their pilot-light eyes and asked me to autograph some of my books. I would have liked to fuck about five of them in one night sometime and get them out of my system forever.

A couple of professors came up and grinned at me for being an ass. It made them feel better, they felt now as if they had a chance at the typewriter.

I took the check and got out. There was to be a small, select gathering at Cecelia’s house afterwards. That was part of the unwritten contract. The more girls the better, but at Cecelia’s house I stood very little chance. I knew that. And sure enough, in the morning I awakened in my bed, alone.

Bill was sick again the next morning. He had another 1:00 class and before he went off he said, “Cecelia will drive you to the airport. I’m going now. No heavy goodbyes.”

“All right.”

Bill put on his backpack and walked his bike out the door.

#1978 #AmericanWriters #Women

Other works by Charles Bukowski...
eulogy to a hell of a dame

dame some dogs who sleep at night must dream of bones and I remember your bones in flesh
 3
imagination and reality

there are many single women in the… with one or two or three children and one wonders where the husbands have gone or where the lovers have gone
Sway With Me

sway with me, everything sad— madmen in stone houses without doors, lepers steaming love and song frogs trying to figure
 1
upon reading an interview with a best-selling novelist in our metropolitan daily newspaper

he talks like he writes and he has a face like a dove, unt… externals. little shiver of horror runs throu… about
99 to one

the blazing shark wants my balls as I walk through the meat section looking for salami and cheese purple housewives
those marvelous lunches

when I was in grammar school my parents were poor and in my lunch bag there was only a peanut butter sandwich.
Post Office. Chapter III: 10

The funeral was to be at 10:30 a.m. but it was already hot. I had on a cheap black suit, bought and fitted in a rush. It was my first new suit in years. I had located the son. We drove ...
Manx

have we gone wrong again? we laugh less and less, become more sadly sane. all we want is the absence of others.
On Going Back to the Street After Viewing an Art Show

they talk down through the centuries to us, and this we need more and more, the statues and paintings in midnight age
cold plums

eating cold plums in bed she told me about the German who owned everything on the block except the custom drapery shop and he tried to buy
Letter To John Martin

Thanks for the good letter. I don’t think it hurts, sometimes, to remember where you came from. You know the places where I came from. Even the people who try to write about that or mak...
 4
artist

all of a sudden I’m a painter. a girl from Galveston gives me $50 for a painting of a man holding a candycane while floating in a darkened sky.
To Kiss the Worms Goodnight

kool enough to die but not kill I take my doctor’s green pill drink tea as the sharks swim through vases o…
Destroying Beauty

rose red sunlight; take it apart in the garage like a puzzle:
, by Vlah Dumitru
The Soldier, His Wife and the Bum

I was a bum in San Francisco but… to go to a symphony concert along… and the music was good but somethi… audience was not and something about the orchestra
 1
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